Minutes to Midnight
by LittleLamperouge
Summary: 'Because it was Lorlen - and those four words could be used to justify everything.' My response to a challenge set on the BMT forum. LAST CHAPTER UP. Warnings of slash and general angstiness. R&R please.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everyone! As I said - there was a challenge on the BMT forum to write an Akkarin/Lorlen fic and this is my response to that. Except of course, being me, I went a little bit overboard...the following fic - roughly 4 or 5 chapters in total I reckon - was in fact meant to be the first chapter of said response...hah - yet more proof why I can't write one-shots *dejected sigh* ah well.**

**Yeah, as you can tell this is outrageously different from DLBIA and Papercut. The follow up fic to this one, the LOOOOONG one, will without a doubt be the longest BMT I have ever written and most likely the last one I write of that kind of proportion - I wasn't even planning to write this, but hey - I like a challenge and this plot bunny refused to let me drop it.**

**So OK: rated for yaoi, possibly language? I dunno, cant' remember. Other than that it's pretty harmless. **

**Big thanks to Shalane and Sheepy Pie for helping to edit this =D - you guys are seriously awesome ^^!**

**I don't own anything in this - other than the plotline (PLEEEEEEEEASE. NO-ONE STEAL THIS IDEA. DISOBEY AND I WILL COME AFTER YOU WITH A PITCHFORK!) and a couple of minor OCs...**

**Enjoy! PLEASE REVIEW - I WOULD VERY MUCHLY LIKE SOME FEEDBACK. As would my plot bunny who I have decided to call Nero o_O...**

**-M.M- **

* * *

Lorlen hated parties. He didn't really like large social gatherings in general, but parties were by far the worst. Perhaps that did make him a 'right boring old sod' as Akkarin had so lovingly referred to him as when he'd grumbled about this earlier, but Lorlen was almost beyond the point of caring now. This…this was just _ridiculous_.

The nineteen year old growled savagely as he ripped at the black velvet tie around his neck, arms flailing as he wrenched it over his head and threw the offending item on the floor unceremoniously, giving it a last vicious kick that didn't even connect very well with the smooth material. Lorlen plopped down onto the edge of his bed and huffed. Yes, he was throwing a strop (yet another Akkarin-like trait he'd picked up without meaning to…) but it wasn't like anyone was here to see it, and that made him feel a little better.

He flopped back onto his bed with a sigh and a small groan, his hand draped across his forehead as though shielding his eyes from the harsh light hanging from the ceiling. After a second of blankness, it suddenly registered to him, with a finality that made him shudder, that this night would mark the end of an era in his life in several different ways.

This would be his last night here in the Novice's Quarters, in this room – his home for the past five years - and it was his home to some extent; he had never felt as though he truly belonged in the Rassil family manor – admittedly, he wasn't strictly a member of that family; when his parents had married, his mother had joined his father's house of Sarron.

Although having said that, he wasn't really a member of the House of Sarron either; his father had died when Lorlen was very young and the Healer only had very fleeting images of him, fragile memories of a man, face accentuated by the glow of the undulating flames in the fireplace rocking him in his arms whilst he slept, talking to him in quiet, low tones and sending him warm heavy waves through their mental link that made always made him sleepy…

He'd been a magician himself, an Alchemist who had met his mother, the devoted scholar, amongst the corridors of the Great Library in Elyne.

However, fortunately for Lorlen, the House Sarron had a near flawless reputation and was highly respected by the other Houses, which had helped a great deal when he had joined the Guild initially. As foolhardy as it was, he had hoped that politics wouldn't have influenced popularity inside the Guild whilst he was a novice – Lorlen had come to the Guild to escape from what lay outside; he'd hoped that he wouldn't be constantly reminded of it whilst he was there, if anything his two worlds were meant to be separate.

And that in turn led to another thing tonight would mark the end of.

When Akkarin had told him of his plans to leave the Guild after graduation, unlike everyone else Lorlen hadn't been surprised at all. His friend had mentioned it occasionally while they were novices; and the fact that he'd even _remembered_, let alone could be bothered to see it through, was a tribute to how much he must have wanted this.

Not that Lorlen was in any way suggesting the other was callous or selective in what he chose to remember, though he was all too aware of how callous Akkarin could be to people sometimes, but Akkarin was if nothing else, an idealist.

He had an imagination like no-one Lorlen had ever met before or since, and as such Akkarin's mind rarely ever stayed in one place for too long. His ideas, although brilliant, were rarely ever seen through to the end either because they were left forgotten underneath all the new better ideas he had thought of since…

Or he simply grew bored and moved on to something else. That applied to people as well.

Those that did not love or admire Akkarin, either thought him self-centered and arrogant because they did not know him well enough to see below the surface, or hated him because they despised the realization that although he had most likely rejected their company at some point – they still loved him deep down anyway. Akkarin was what the bitter loved to hate, the one that _always_ got away. And now it was Lorlen's turn, Akkarin was leaving him behind too. Perhaps, forever…

A wave of cold pinpricks flushed over his skin and he pulled his legs onto the bed with him, now half curled up in a fetal position. He bit the corner of his bottom hard at the lump in his throat, a sign of all the unshed tears he was keeping at bay. Lorlen did not want to cry; it would do nothing to change the situation and would only leave him feeling even more helpless and lonely. It reminded him that this was just a precursor of what life would be like for him without Akkarin there – cold, dark and miserable.

_No_, he told himself, _I_ _will get through this. What is there to be sad about?_

This afternoon he had graduated as a Healer of the Magician's Guild of Kyralia – a culmination of five turbulent years, which led to the birth of Lord Lorlen. _Lord_ Lorlen let out a rather undignified snort - he'd never grow fond of that title, it just didn't suit his name at all. Lord Akkarin, however…_Stop it_.

Of course it sounded OK with Akkarin's name, he was better than him at everything…

But now was not the time to be thinking of such things. This was the first night of the rest of his life and the last with his friends before they all separated. It was Akkarin's night in particular –and Lorlen vowed he would go to the party and enjoy himself. He had nothing left to lose now; for one night the consequences could all take a running jump. Smiling to himself, he raised himself from the bed and went back to the full length mirror to make himself presentable.

_Smart, but yet not too formal_, his friend had said when Lorlen had asked him what to wear.

"_Not too much black – we're not going to a funeral – and NO ROBES. We've just finished graduating, I'm sure we should be allowed one evening of transition before we all revert back to sniveling stone-faced magicians in the morning." _

The newly graduated magician inspected himself in the mirror. Well, he 'deemed it acceptable' as Akkarin would say when he criticized something he actually approved of. He wore a simple yet quietly sophisticated outfit – his long dark brown hair was down and partially resting on his shoulders, he wore a plain long-sleeved white dress shirt with a silver waistcoat that apparently made his eyes look brighter, with small shiny black buttons down the middle. He wore a pair of rather _tight _fitting black trousers that Akkarin had eagerly insisted Lorlen buy…

The Healer flushed slightly at the memory of his friend casting appreciative, borderline _steamy_ glances at his legs when Lorlen had tried them on the shop.

Playful of course.

Well –

At least he thought so…

Casting those thoughts aside, he took a deep breath and checked once more that he looked respectable. Lorlen wasn't wearing anything too fussy or over the top, not that it mattered, Akkarin had enough 'extrovert-ness' for the both of them; and there was any danger whatsoever of him showing his friend up in the looks department. Mildly sad, but true.

_Damn…I think about Akkarin an awful lot don't I? _

The blush that had been fading from Lorlen's cheeks came back in full force. Yes, it was true. But there wasn't all that much he could do about it. His friend was found to be fascinating and intriguing by just about everyone he came across, and even _he_ was no exception – it was just part of the Akkarin 'package' as it were…._right?_

But yet for most other people, the shine wore off slightly they became used to Akkarin's antics – that hadn't happened as far as Lorlen was concerned. In fact, for a while now, it only seemed to be growing _stronger_.

And that wasn't right.

Lorlen sighed as he crossed his arms behind his head and drifted away from the mirror.

What he felt for Akkarin was complicated. The friendly, almost brotherly love was still there, loud and clear, but there were an increasing number of times recently when it had seemed more than that. His heart would cough and splutter in his chest whenever Akkarin smiled or grinned at him in that way he only seemed to reserve for Lorlen and he found himself growing increasingly moody whenever his friend would tell him about a date he had planned for some girl he was taking to the Races…

The Healer had a feeling he was missing something vitally important and obvious, but didn't know what it is and – in truth – didn't want to know either.

Whatever he felt now didn't matter - Akkarin would be leaving in a carriage for Calia tomorrow morning and from there he would take another carriage to the coast where he would board a boat for Elyne. Pondering over emotional turmoil was pointless if the person involved would be absent for the next few weeks, months, _years._

Nothing would ever become of these fleeting emotions for Akkarin, Lorlen had accepted and dealt with that a long time ago. And there was no way he'd have jeopardized their friendship for something that may not even exist.

A loud succession of wraps on his door startled the Healer out of his musings and he shouted for the visitors to enter.

A fellow ex-novice, Terell, opened the door and greeted Lorlen with a warm smile. The newcomer looked over the Healer and grinned.

"Who's the lucky lady then, Lorlen? Don't think Akkarin would be too pleased to have his friend stealing all the attention!"

Lorlen huffed quietly.

"Good evening to you too, Terell, Yikmo." He said as he nodded at the Vindo graduate who leant the door.

Yikmo greeted Lorlen as well.

"It's late, the party was due to start 25 minutes ago." The new Warrior stated to his companions. Lorlen frowned, but Terell simply laughed.

"That's OK then. I doubt Akkarin will turn up anyway for at least another 20 minutes. You know how he likes to make a big introduction."

Yikmo sniggered. "Yes, but I don't think the introduction will be a warm one if he waits so long everyone gets grumpy and leaves."

Terell shrugged. "Fair point. You coming, Lorlen?"

Lorlen paused and turned back to the mirror once more. _Yes Lorlen, who _is_ the lucky lady then?_

He pushed the voice in his head to the back of his mind and inspected himself once more.

Feeling especially daring, he undid another two buttons on his shirt and separated the collars, exposing more chest and showing off the glittering blue gemstone that hung from the end of his necklace. Finally satisfied, he grinned at his reflection, suddenly feeling rather excited and jittery at the thought of the party.

"Yeah, let's go."

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**A/N: I reckon updates for this should be pretty regular...hoping to have this finished by the end of the month - but don't quote me on that - look at DLBIA =S**

**R&R if you please.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Oh look - an update ^^! Huzzah - free B&J Cookie Dough Ice Cream for everyone (damn, I love that stuff 8D)! Thank you SO much for the positive feedback for chapter 1 *insert Cheshire cat grin here* seriously though, I really appreciate the time people took to read this. OK, onto chapter 2...um...not too much to say about this - oh, other than this:**

**Now I know there are some yaoi fics out there where one of the main characters has a girlfriend that turns psychotic when she's eventually dumped for the other guy, and that sometimes the entire fic revolves around that - but that isn't the case in this, ok? Well, definitely not in this prologue-y bit anyway, there's not enough time and I need to focus on the Akkarin/Lorlen love!**

**Err...think that's it...oh and also - **Yikmo's mind communication is in **bold writing**, Lorlen's is in **_bold italics_**, and my OC Terell has **_underlined bold italic _**_**writing **_^^

**Nothing to really warn about this chapter in particular, well other than making Akkarin look like a bit of twat - but hey, I'm not gonna portray him as perfect - he's only human and we need room for him to improve later on right?**

**Muchos muchos grazias to Shalane and Sheepy Pie for helping out with this chapter!**

**Shutting up now - please R&R if possible!**

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The journey to the Guildhall was pleasant enough. The night was still young and Lorlen found himself smiling at the gorgeous sunset that had settled over the skies of Imardin as he and his two friends exchanged small talk.  
Strange to think that he could find himself seeing anything beautiful about this city considering his opinions of it when he had first arrived five years ago.  
Before the Initiation Ceremony and a few weeks prior to that, all he had ever known was the country mansion he had been brought up in; amidst a great forest in the heart of Kyralia - cut off from everyone. Both his parents had been raised inside their own respective Houses, and according to his mother that was why they had chosen to raise a child as far away from all the pressure and formalities as possible.

Life back then had been simple; quiet but stress free and happy, with only his mother, the books and the woods around him for company.  
Lorlen had known of the outside world and had asked his mother much about what it was like and she had explained as best she could - but as the years went on, her answers no longer seemed sufficient and an air of unrest seeped in through the silent emptiness of the rooms where each person would sit and read to themselves.  
Discontentment dripped down the walls, unhappiness dangled from the immaculate ceilings like cobwebs; and a new heavy sense of inevitability hung over his mother's head like a brooding storm cloud: bending her mouth into a permanent frown, deepening shadows beneath her eyes and making her small frame waste away and tremble whenever she moved.  
She was just unhappy, Lorlen had thought at the time, so he had put his malignant growth of questions aside and concentrated on making her feel better in any way he possibly could, but somehow it had never been the same…and then -

A hand clasped down on his shoulder.

"Wow Lorlen, I have to say, if I was your girlfriend and I knew you were thinking about me this much - I'd be flattered beyond belief!" Terell laughed lightly and Yikmo rolled his eyes but smirked.  
Lorlen blinked.

_Girlfriend? OH! Right…_

He sniggered under his breath. "Yes - she truly is something special." _Heh. Indeed._  
The taller Alchemist grinned and patted Lorlen's shoulder once more.

"You'll have to introduce me to her in that case, I'm sure we'll become best of friends!"

Yikmo snorted quietly.

"And _I'm_ sure any girlfriend of Lorlen's will be smart enough to know you're trouble almost straight away."

"Hey!"

Lorlen laughed at the two as they continued to argue. He was glad Terell had interrupted his thoughts, thinking about that time in his life always made him unhappy and he intended to enjoy this evening as much as he could.  
But then he entered the University with his two friends and groaned.

The building was _packed_ with people – it seemed just about every magician under the age of 30 had been invited (knowing Akkarin, that was probably the case) and they in turn had brought along their close families: all dressed immaculately in beautiful, intricate costumes that made Lorlen feel somewhat unworthy to be in their presence and want to turn around and go back to his room.

The sparkle and glamour of the upper classes was something he had never quite adapted to, and it was something he awed and despised at the same time.  
He wanted to be like them – to feel like he _belonged_ amongst the rich and powerful, talking about mindless unimportant things whilst dressed in an outfit that was probably worth as much as the family carriage.  
But it was all so _fake_: influences based on popularity and looks alone, friends betraying friends for the sake of moving up in the social system. No-one knew who to trust or believe anymore and it made Lorlen sad.

He felt a presence ghost over his own. Yikmo.

**Don't be sad Lorlen. Terell and I will stay with you until Akkarin arrives if you wish**.

Oddly enough, this time his unhappiness had nothing to do with his friend. But Lorlen didn't want to share his misery with another, and he didn't think Yikmo would understand.  
The Healer scowled, hating the fact that his friends felt the need to babysit him. Lorlen was seriously tempted to pack in the idea altogether – he was sure Akkarin would notice if he was absent and would probably go and visit him once things had died down a bit…but…

He sighed.

_**I suppose backing out of this is not an option then**_, he grumbled in reply.

**_No it isn't. If nothing else, Akkarin would want you here,_** a different voice replied and Lorlen looked up at Terell in surprise, the Alchemist's face unnaturally somber. The Healer sighed, his uncertainty and doubt filtering through the mind link.  
**Of course**_** he would want you here, Lorlen; you're his best friend after all. You've been together almost right from the beginning, and the fact that you're still together now – that's saying something for him. **_Lorlen smiled softly and hummed quietly in agreement.

**Everything will be OK Lorlen**, Yikmo added with a lopsided smile that looked oddly out of place on the Warrior's face. The Healer nodded in agreement.

**_You're right. Thank you, both of you. Right now, I just need a stiff drink – I have a feeling I'm going to need it._**

The two other magicians laughed.

"That's the spirit! Now come on, you still need to introduce me to your girlfriend."

Lorlen and Yikmo groaned simultaneously as the three magicians made their way down the stairs and went in search of the drinks table.

They made it halfway across the vast University floor, when loud, rapturous applause swept through the crowd like a plague. The three magicians turned to face the commotion and Lorlen felt his stomach knot, all thoughts of wine and alcohol instantly vanishing from his mind.

Akkarin stood on the balcony of the University's second floor, hanging directly over the entrance to the building itself, grinning in almost smug satisfaction at the reception from his adoring fans. They watched as he put down his wine glass on the floor and mockingly bowed very low, managing to knock his forehead against the marble handrail in the process. He stumbled and gave a rather undignified yelp and the audience exclaimed in alarm, loud chatter rising from the crowd.

Lorlen sniggered as he face-palmed, not sure if he honestly wanted to know just how much his friends had drunk already.

The Warrior straightened up immediately, clutching at the handrail with one hand and at his forehead with the other, he grinned widely and soothed the pain away with some Healing energy. He waved enthusiastically to the audience and they went wild, a few of them catcalling as he removed a knee length navy blue trench-coat with a golden lining and threw it into the crowd; a couple of recently graduated females began to scream as they caught the item and jumped up and down in excitement.

Lorlen regarded them in disbelief, a sense of resignation blossomed inside him as he shook his head at Akkarin's blatant lack of modesty.  
But then his friend really was exceptional at just about…_everything_. _Akkarin_ knew it, and he made sure everyone he met knew it too.  
It was no wonder Lorlen always remained in his shadow – there was _no way _he could compete with this.

The Warrior held out his hand behind him and it was quickly taken by a very attractive lady; and Lorlen's face was instantly drained of all remnants of humour.

_Her_ name was Laria and she was seventeen years old, due to graduate from the Guild next year. She was from the house of Tevlan, family Herrel and her father, or uncle, or some male relative (Lorlen generally tuned out whenever Akkarin started talking about her) was the King's steward – the next in line to the throne should the King die before he had any children.

Laria curtseyed politely to the cheering audience before accepting Akkarin's hand, hers clasped daintily in his, presumably trying to advertise some kind of feminine weakness she possessed. Lorlen made a quiet noise of utter disgust and found himself not wanting to look at them both as Akkarin tugged her up onto the balcony with him, her latched onto his side and chest like a big pink leech, as though frightened by the great heights and looking to her oh-so-handsome-and-noble-savior for help.

The Healer damn well _knew_ that was fake. Laria was by no means a quiet damsel in distress unable to defend herself – he had _seen_ her battling in the Arena, and she was a _Fourth-year novice _for crying out loud!  
Akkarin gave her a dazzling smile and looped an arm around her waist as they stepped over the railings in one stride.

Though they'd seen it all before, the audience couldn't help but suck in a quick breath as they began to fall; until their descent was slowed by magic (presumably Akkarin's) and they began to twirl downwards in a gentle spiral, never breaking eye contact. The onlookers cooed at their obvious affection, clapping and whistling.  
Lorlen had officially had enough of this; he hadn't wasted all that time getting ready to stand here for a few hours, getting claustrophobic and drunk whilst watching his best friend being stolen from him by some two-faced brat.

Something quickly snapped him back into focus and reminded him that Laria was in _no way whatsoever _stealing Akkarin from him – she had known him, or at least known _of_ him, since birth – if anything _he_ would be stealing him from _her_. And though Lorlen hated to admit it, she had a far greater claim over Akkarin than he ever had – best friends or not.

The couple landed softly and embraced each other, Laria beginning to fuss over Akkarin's forehead as she began to kiss it better, lips trailing down his face join with Akkarin's, who seemed to hesitate slightly before kissed back briefly and pulled away, wrapping an arm around her waist as they turned to face the audience.

_After all_, Lorlen thought sourly, _they_ were _engaged_.

As the Healer stood in silence watching the two lovers, all around him the crowd whistled and cheered enthusiastically – and Lorlen was sure he had felt never so alone in his life.

He _really_ needed that drink now.

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**A/N: Next update should be pretty soonishy...hopefully...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Yay - finally able to post this! About bloody time ¬_¬. Anyway! chapter THREEEEEEEEEEE - only two chapters left after this one. Sorry for the wait - chapter 4 was refusing to co-operate and I wanted to get that sorted before I posted this. I'm utterly determined now to get this entire fic finished and posted by the end of the month...**

**On a slightly different note: thank you SO much to everyone that's reviewed/alerted/can't be assed to do either of the aforementioned but reads it anyway - it means so much to me and I'm so glad to know that there ARE actually quite a few people out there who like this pairing ^_^.**

**Extra thanks to Shalane and Sheepy-Pie from the BMT forum for proof-reading this 8D**

**Warnings: err...none that I can think of...well, Lorlen being a tad perverted, Akkarin being Akkarin and - oh yeah, _try_ not to kill my OC (not that I'd put much efffort into defending her anyway)**

**Quick random question, though I haven't finished reading it: Where the _HELL_ is Dorrien in TAM?**

**Anyway, enjoy! Feedback is always welcomed!**

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Three hours later and Lorlen was leant against a University wall, looking thoroughly bored and miserable whilst he sloshed Anuren Dark around in his wineglass.

The Healer had only returned to the party about twenty minutes ago, after he'd decided to head outside for his own for a while. Despite the break, he still felt thoroughly moody and had hoped to take the edge off using alcohol. He'd given up his _entire evening _for this stupid party (not that he'd had anything else planned – but that was beside the point) and _still_ he hadn't managed to even say _one word _to Akkarin! He hadn't even seen him properly, though he fancied he'd seen him somewhere through the crowd a couple of times.  
Honestly – how much did people have to say to one person that they couldn't say over a letter at some other time? Surely his family wouldn't take three hours to say 'goodbye and good luck'? Lorlen didn't even think Akkarin had invited that many of his House to the event anyway…  
Or had he snuck off somewhere private with his fiancée to swap spit amongst other things?  
The Healer was unable to hold back a shudder.

It wasn't even disgusting to have to imagine them together as a couple (not that he'd had to imagine, he'd seen it himself earlier), it was plain _repulsive_. Both young, rich and beautiful, popular and well liked by pretty much anyone their encountered. They looked so _good_ and _natural_ together as a couple it was like they had been _designed_ especially for each other – and the thought of their being so close to perfection made Lorlen want to do something drastic and irresponsible.  
It just wasn't _fair_.  
The magician sighed deeply into his glass, his breath causing the dark liquid to ripple and froth slightly.

Something feather light skated over the surface of his mind and Lorlen felt himself twitch at the unexpected contact. He frowned and tried to grab at the intrusion, but it skittered away before he could identify the source. Lorlen's frown deepened. It had been some form of mental communication only without words, as though the person wasn't trying to send a message, but…but was _searching_ for something or someone. Brushing it aside as nothing of importance, the Healer went back to silently brooding over his glass of wine, wondering why Akkarin really felt it necessary to invite so many people to a party. Honestly, how many of these people did he actually have a decent conversation on a regular basis?

The strange fluttering sensation returned, ghosting over his mind, only slightly stronger this time. The Healer tried to grasp at it but it simply dodged all his attempts much to his great annoyance and refused to leave his head.  
Lorlen shook his head as if to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling, when he looked up and froze; transfixed by the man now directly in his line of vision with his slightly-longer-than-shoulder length black hair that shone in the lights, the dark velvet waistcoat that was actually a very deep blue now he could see it closer and a blood red dress shirt. The object of his affection even bent over  
(_Oh_ why _did those trousers have to fit him so well? Damned show-off with his long thin legs…_)  
to reach the bottle of wine on the table, giving Lorlen a perfect view of his rear end. The Healer flushed at the realization he was staring and bit his lip, feeling heat beginning to pool around his groin and turned away slightly before anyone saw.

"Mmph! Lorlen!"

For a moment, the man in question had almost not wanted the other to notice his proximity. He had wanted him to simply carry on pouring his drink and then calmly get up and walk off, letting Lorlen bore holes into his back, or well, whatever else he wanted to look at, as he went. But then that moment passed.

The Healer smiled in genuine delight, his face still a little flushed from his earlier thoughts and the Warrior grinned back, gesturing for Lorlen to approach with his free hand.  
As Lorlen weaved past a couple of people towards his friend, he suddenly felt himself grow more and more nervous, despite the effects of the wine, something he really didn't understand – after all, it was only Akkarin.  
_Yes, but it's _more _than 'only Akkarin'. That line was crossed quite a while ago…_  
"So how are you doing?" Lorlen asked, not comprehending the short moment of silence between the two as they simply stared at each other. Akkarin groaned and Lorlen felt a jolt of something white hot and electric flash across his senses, leaving him stunned and slightly breathless.

"I don't think I've ever had to listen to so much nonsense since one of the monster's lectures back in Third-Year Alchemy! Who actually _cares_ about gossip in Elyne? I'm not in Elyne yet – give me something to look forward to when I get there!"  
He made a rude noise, "Takes all the fun out of it."

Lorlen sniggered beside him.

"You _did _invite half of Kyralia to a party – they had to talk about _something_."

Akkarin pulled a face.

"I have to admit I wasn't actually expecting this many people to turn up; I'd have thought _some of them _at least would have been 'otherwise engaged'," he sighed tiredly, "I don't know Lorlen, sometimes I can almost see why you hate the House system so much."

The younger man raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Akkarin hating the House system? Now _that_ was definitely one thing he hadn't been expecting to hear.  
His friend was the very _personification_ of everything a sole heir to an influential House should be. Akkarin _bathed_ in the spotlight and attention he received from others and in return people loved him for it.  
Or maybe Lorlen had gotten Akkarin wrong after all – what perfectly content young man decided to flee to a country he knows little about as soon as he'd become of age?  
Was that what this whole leaving thing was all about – a way to escape from the responsibility and pressure he didn't feel he was able to handle at the moment?  
It _did_ sound like the kind of thing he'd do; when anyone or anything started getting too serious towards him, his friend ran for the hills – which why was what Lorlen was feeling right now was _bad_. If Akkarin _ever_ found out…

"Don't look at me like that Lorlen." The Healer was startled out of his thoughts by the Warrior weakly punching his shoulder.  
"I know it probably sounds hypocritical – but you'd feel the same if you had my responsibility!"

_Meaning I would hate the Houses even more or run away you are?_

The Warrior slung an arm over his friend's shoulders.

"Maybe we could swap lives, Lorlen – you and I. I'll stay quiet and read books and study whilst you go out and socialize, listen to all the _essential_ news that is court gossip."

Ouch. Was that all Akkarin saw in him? Was that _really_ all he was? A quiet book nerd? Surely not…oh heavens, that really _was_ him, wasn't it?

He turned to face his friend, about to open his mouth and reply when he saw Laria, all lustrous golden locks and gleaming white teeth, walking towards them with a sense of purpose, sparkling green eyes fixed on Akkarin - Lorlen didn't like the look in those eyes, it made him feel uncomfortable as though she planned to simply walk up to Akkarin and –

She politely tapped him on the shoulder and smirked mischievously as her fiancé greeted her in return before she stepped forwards and proceeded to _eat his face_.  
Akkarin made a small noise that Lorlen was unable to interpret before the older magician locked his arms around her and kissed back, tilting his head to the side to deepen it.

Lorlen meanwhile, stood frozen to the spot, staring at the couple in disbelief (and jealousy), horror, irritation at the horrendous timing (let's not forget jealousy), but also with a sense of morbid fascination. He'd never actually seen what kissing someone looked like from this angle before, and anyway – he wanted to see if Akkarin was a good kisser or not…

_…I think it's time I leave now_. His thoughts were getting a little obsessive now - even for him.

The Healer took a small step backwards and turned his back on the couple when he felt something stop him. His confusion quickly morphed into shock (with a nice little kick of _interest_) when he realized that one of Akkarin's hands was now curled around his bare wrist, as if to restrain him.  
Lorlen partially opened the new mental communication channel, not wishing to feel what his friend was feeling whilst kissing his fiancée. Small ripples of confusion wafted through to Akkarin from the younger magician and in return the Warrior tightened the grip around Lorlen's wrist. Emotions filtered back to the Healer: determination moulded into a silent plea, for Lorlen to stay? The younger magician felt a small smile bloom on his face despite the situation – for a while, he was sure Akkarin had completely forgotten about him…

Somewhere in the Guild, a bell began to chime a metallic tune. It was ten o clock. Akkarin took a step backwards to join Lorlen and let go of his wrist (he immediately missed the contact), pulling away from Laria, who in turn pouted at Akkarin, face flushed and cat-like eyes half lidded.  
The Warrior held her at arms' length, breathing slightly little faster than usual.

"Didn't you father request that you be _home_ by now, my love?"  
Lorlen stiffened slightly at the mention of the 'l' word – and not in a good way.

The girl frowned as she considered, "What is the time?"

"It's just gone midnight." Her fiancé replied. The Healer blinked, but said nothing.

Her frown deepened before morphing into something Lorlen reckoned was meant to be seductive.

"I'm sure he won't mind if I spend a little longer with the love of my life as long as you're taking good care of me," she purred "and anyway, you could be away for ages and I wouldn't get to see you…"

Lorlen bit his lip to stop himself snapping at the girl, settling for simply clenching his fists at his sides. Akkarin however was in complete control.

"I understand, Laria. But until we are married, your father is still the one in charge of arranging this marriage and if we anger him, he may not let us be together anymore." She opened her mouth to reply but the Warrior continued, determined to get his side across. "Besides, you need to get some rest now so that you can be up early tomorrow morning to send me off."

At once her face lit up and Lorlen was left speechless once more by Akkarin's sheer ingenuity.

"Of course! I had forgotten about tomorrow morning! What in the Allied Lands would I do without you?"

_You'll find out tomorrow_, a dark voice sneered inside Lorlen's head.

Akkarin chuckled quietly.

"Go and find your belongings and I'll bring the carriage to the front of the University."

A few minutes later, the betrothed couple stood at the bottom of the University stairs, Laria's hands clasped together in Akkarin's as they talked quietly for a short while and Lorlen leant against the University doorway (at Akkarin's request; he wasn't a couple stalker). They exchanged another quick kiss as the Warrior helped the novice into the carriage and shut the door, perhaps a little firmer than was necessary. The carriage drew away slowly and Akkarin watched it go, waving once when Laria stuck her head out of the window and blew him a kiss.

As it disappeared from sight, the Warrior grunted and allowed his shoulders to slump. He turned back towards Lorlen and began to ascend the stairs.  
"Well, now that _that's_ been taken care of; I believe we both came here tonight for a party and a good time, did we not? And I fear I have yet to deliver, Lorlen. I don't know about you, but I seem to have no wine glass as of now – and that must be fixed _immediately._ Care to join me?"

Lorlen grinned and sniggered quietly under his breath as Akkarin threw an arm over his shoulders and guided him back inside.

_Just the two of us at last_, the younger magician thought. This was how it should have been all along. And though Akkarin was going abroad, Lorlen hoped that was the way it would stay for a very long time to come.

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**A/N: Please stick around - next chapter things start to get interesting...8D**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi! Jesus, I had no idea the chapter was THIS long O_O - it's like 2000 words longer than all the others! Daaaamn. Hope it's worth the read ^_^. Once again, posting at what could be considered a stupid time of day - so my brain's gone all mushy. **

**A big huge squishy thanks to everyone who reviewed/alerted/read etc so far - greatly greatly appreciated ^_^!**

**Things start happening in this chapter :). **

**I've also realised that there will now be 6 chapters in total instead of 5, all of which I'm very muchly hoping to post before the end of the month, so expect really crazy rapid fire updating ^_^.**

**Big thanks to Shalane and Sheepy for beta-ing - you guys seriously rock XD.**

**Warnings: errr...angst? possible cliches - sorry bout that =S. yaoi perversion (both ways) ;-)? I'd warn of one other thing, 'cept there isn't really much need if you've bothered to read this far already (I'm assuming everyone reading is non-squeamish about yaoi/shounen-ai etc - if you are, err...feel free to press the back button?)**

**I'm also thinking about changing the fic title - though I'm not sure what to.**

**Comments are very much welcome! **

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Akkarin was having a rather enjoyable evening – something he concluded some time _after_ his fiancée had gone home.  
His party had so far been a great success partially due to the large turnout (perhaps _too_ large a turnout even for his liking, but it was unreasonable to complain about one's party being too popular). He was also at least _moderately_ drunk from all the wine he'd consumed and had gotten the opportunity to meet up and talk with several people he hadn't had the chance to speak to in what felt like forever.

Though he'd told those who'd asked that he planned to return to the Guild in a few months, Akkarin wasn't sure that would necessarily be the case. He knew he could quite easily find something (or at least _convince_ everyone that he had found something) that demanded he stay away longer. Perhaps he could tell his family that he had met someone during his travels…  
No. He couldn't stay away because of that – truth or otherwise.  
Unfortunately, his parents had pretty much planned out his entire future life for him already; and it wouldn't do to go against their wishes if he still hoped to be included in their inheritance, or the wishes of his fiancée's family.

He hadn't actually expected Laria to turn up; Akkarin had assumed she would deem the party too 'rowdy and boisterous' for someone as snooty (and _possessive_) as she was.  
Truth be told, this evening was the first time they had spent more than a couple of hours in each other's presence, away from the gaze of House servants or their respective guardians, but still – although Akkarin could tolerate her _touchy-feely-ness _after he had hit his head on the handrail (he'd rather she hadn't tried that in front of a few hundred of his guests, but Akkarin suspected that was the whole point), the _attack_ on him whilst he had been talking to Lorlen had been _completely_ unnecessary.

His friend had been about to speak when she had approached, and quite naturally Lorlen had gotten pretty uncomfortable when they began kissing; Akkarin could feel the waves radiating off him and wished he could simply shove Laria away and apologize to his friend for the intrusion - but he hadn't wanted to risk his family's reputation by doing so.

But Akkarin then would proudly acknowledge to _anyone_ that he was unbelievably greedy and selfish when it came to getting what he wanted.  
And he'd decided that he'd had enough of his future wife for one evening (_Heavens_ only knew how they would survive married life together) and wanted to spend some time with Lorlen instead.

The Warrior glanced at the Healer sitting next to him on the University stairs from the corner of his eye.  
Akkarin had been ecstatic to see that his friend had decided to come after all; he knew Lorlen _hated_ large social events and therefore was exceedingly grateful for his presence.

However, his friend had been rather quiet tonight; even more so than usual and that worried him. Maybe Lorlen was thinking about what happened with Laria earlier on, or what life would be like as a fully qualified magician – an active member of the Magician's Guild.  
Or, most likely, perhaps he was thinking about tomorrow morning and what it would or could mean when Akkarin actually left the Guild, maybe for good.  
Lorlen had mentioned his worries about their separation some time back but his friend was still unable to understand where those doubts had come from as they were completely unfounded – _of course _Akkarin would write to him, he'd most likely send the Healer an address or two sometime and _insist_ his friend go join him on his wondrous adventures across the Allied Lands.  
It would be just like old times, the two of them against the world.  
Well, maybe that was a bit melodramatic; but it got the general point across.

Akkarin turned to face the younger magician properly, though the other did not seem to notice.  
Lorlen had a far off look on his face, eyes seeming to sparkle as a strange little smirk made the corners of his lips curve upwards.  
The Warrior found himself staring at the other's mouth, deciding that Lorlen did in fact have very nice lips – all pink and soft-looking...

Mahogany orbs slid away from Lorlen's mouth, Akkarin's gaze rolling over the other's rather effeminate jawline, letting it dribble off the edge of the Healer's face and sweep across his pale throat then down, past the shirt collar to his chest partially hidden in shadows due to the way Lorlen was sitting…

Though the Warrior imagined Lorlen had a rather nice chest as well, what with Lorlen actually being rather attractive now that Akkarin really looked at him properly…_how_ had he not noticed this before?  
Or had he?

His gaze landed on Lorlen's legs and Akkarin had a fleeting memory he had been with his friend the day he bought those. If his memory was correct, it was _he_ who had suggested Lorlen buy them…  
Akkarin took another few seconds to mentally praise himself for his excellent fashion sense – the whole time during which he had unknowingly been staring at the Healer's legs.  
Oh, like it really mattered anyway. If legs like those had been on anyone else, Akkarin almost definitely would have found himself staring regardless.  
It wasn't that he was actually attracted to _Lorlen_ per se; simply complimenting him…not that his friend was making very good conversation at the moment anyway.

Drawing himself out of his thoughts, Akkarin found himself once again looking at the Healer's face, captivated as the smile on Lorlen's face began to blossom further; the Healer's dark eyes softening and becoming half-lidded. The younger magician let out a quiet sigh of longing and the Warrior felt himself frowning deeply, eyebrows knitted together tightly as his good mood suddenly took a nosedive.  
He didn't know why, but something about that sigh made him feel…strange.  
The Healer just didn't _do_ longing sighs; never whilst in _his _company anyway - but Akkarin had just assumed that was because his friend had never truly _wanted_ anything or _anyone_ that badly before…

Akkarin had spent the last five years with Lorlen; and he had gotten to know quite a bit about him, though his friend rarely ever spoke about himself directly.  
He knew both of the other's parents were dead and that he didn't get along very well with the relatives he was staying with currently (Lorlen's mother's sister's family? Something like that anyway). Maybe that was partially the reason why Lorlen barely ever socialized, choosing instead to do work or stay in his room and read or 'think', usually only venturing outside when Akkarin forced him to.

The Warrior knew everything about Lorlen's life because (as arrogant and egotistical as it sounded) other than work, rest and food, it mainly comprised of _him_.  
But then he had to go and _sigh_ like that and Akkarin faltered for a moment, wondered if Lorlen said something to him about a love interest whilst he wasn't paying attention…  
Maybe Lorlen chose not to tell him on purpose, but…did that mean…they were drifting apart?  
The thought itself cleared Akkarin's mind considerably, the warm haze of the alcohol beginning to subside as the sombre thoughts and unanswered questions began to appear in his head faster than he could keep up with – all of which ultimately linked back to one question in particular -

How much did he _really_ know about Lorlen?

And the Warrior quickly realized that it's a pitifully small amount for someone who is meant to be his best friend.

Akkarin was sure that he spent more time with him than anyone else – but somehow, just being around him no longer seemed enough.  
He wanted to know what's going on in his friend's head _at that very moment_, what it was that interested him, what he wanted to do with his life now he had become a Healer. Did he want to get married and settle down somewhere so he could start a family of his own?

The older magician found himself surprised by how much the thought of his dear friend moving on with his life _without_ him worried and frightened him.  
Not that he needed to worry, the Warrior quickly told himself – Lorlen was perfectly capable of looking after himself.  
He was young, handsome, friendly and fiercely passionate about his new job; no doubt someone would eventually notice him and see the Lorlen that it turned out perhaps not even he knew of…

A lump in his throat made it increasingly difficult for the Warrior to swallow and he was forced to look away. Everyone seemed to think that it was only Lorlen that needed Akkarin around, but the secret was, Akkarin needed Lorlen just as much, if not more.  
The Healer was his voice of sense and reason, responsible for saving him from (or in impossible circumstances, staying with him through) countless detentions and other punishments.  
The younger magician was always there to chastise him whenever he dumped a girlfriend, always whining about getting caught whenever Akkarin snuck wine out of the Night Room before the magicians arrived, though all complaining seemed to cease once they were sat by the spring in the middle of the night drinking expensive wine and bantering about mindless rubbish neither of them would remember in the morning.  
But that would no longer be there after tomorrow; and Akkarin was hit with the startling realization of just how much he has taken his friend for granted.

"What are you thinking about?"

Lorlen blinked at the unexpected question, drawn out of his reverie by the unnaturally quiet tone of Akkarin's voice – despite the large amounts of alcohol he knew the other had consumed.  
The Healer turned to face the Warrior and Akkarin briefly felt a sharp recognition, horror and terror, echoed also in Lorlen's eyes, saw the slow burn of pink creep over the Healer's neck and engulf his cheeks, a strained parody of a smile replacing his previously startled expression.

Lorlen looked away in embarrassment, and in doing so missed the strange expression that fell across the other's face if only for a moment.  
Missed the chance to perhaps prevent all that would happen to them in times to come as a result of this one night.

Akkarin also was clueless to the importance of the current situation, focused instead on the fact that Lorlen still hadn't answered the question, and that therefore meant he was hiding something.  
Many people would have left it there, reasoned that it was obviously something the Healer did not wish to discuss and therefore choose to respect his privacy.  
But Akkarin was not most people, and there was something about that flush on Lorlen's face that held his interest just long enough to deem this matter one worth pursuing further.

He opened his mouth to question the Healer further when something made him stop and reconsider, taking in the way Lorlen was subtly biting his lip…forced himself to _stop staring _at Lorlen's lips again, noting the tension in his posture and the way his gaze was purposefully (deliberately?) focused somewhere else…

And then it dawned on him, realization seeping through Akkarin's face as it slackened his jaw and raised his eyebrows. His friend was embarrassed about something; Lorlen was _blushing_. There was _no way _he was letting this go now!

"OK then…" Akkarin's eyes narrowed "_who_ are you thinking about?"

Because he was genuinely curious as to whom Lorlen would think about in _that_ way (his friend hadn't said anything about _what_ he thinking of but it was pretty obvious).  
Not to be harsh, but the Warrior had almost begun to assume his friend was _asexual_ - he'd shown no attachment, beyond friendship, to _anyone_ during the whole time they'd known each other.  
Well, he'd _tried_ to have a relationship once with a girl he met at the Races, but Akkarin could tell almost straight away that even if Lorlen had pursued it, it wouldn't have lasted long anyway.

However, oddly enough, this turn of events had failed to improve Akkarin's mood at all.  
As much as he wanted his friend to be happy in his absence, the Warrior had grown used to the idea that it would always be just the two of them; and the thought that Lorlen had, perhaps fallen in love with another, made Akkarin feel…he wasn't sure he wanted to put a word to it.  
But Akkarin did know that his good mood was deteriorating rapidly. And that it was _all Lorlen's fault_.

The magician in question was left feeling dazed and just a little mortified at his current predicament.  
How…_how_ could he have been so _careless_? Akkarin was sitting _right to next to him _and he was daydreaming about…about…_that? _What if he'd seen it via mental communication – not deliberately perhaps, due to their close proximity it was more than likely…  
Akkarin's gaze was now rather hostile, something that completely caught Lorlen off guard and made him more frightened than he could remember being in a long time. At that look, any remnants of his previous blush melted away and anything he had planned to say was forgotten instantly.  
Had Akkarin realized what was going on? Did he already know how he felt about him? Was that what his friend was waiting for him to admit?

_Maybe he feels the same way back…_  
But Lorlen doubted it.

"Why the sudden interest, Akkarin?"

Akkarin's eyes flashed, a strange triumphant grin on his face.

"So there _is_ someone."

Lorlen blinked and fought back a scowl. _Damn it._

"Yes…" he admitted reluctantly. Akkarin sensed the other's hesitation.

"But…?"

The Healer smothered an angry retort, more than slightly annoyed at Akkarin's damned determination and general hard-headedness.  
Could he not get the hint that he didn't want to talk about this?  
"It's complicated?" Lorlen answered meekly, unsure of what else to say.

The Warrior's face seemed to soften at his friend's reply, though not to the point that Lorlen was confident he would get out of this with their friendship still intact.

"You don't sound too sure." Akkarin muttered quietly.

"I'm not."

"Then…what's the problem?"

Lorlen sighed tiredly, tendrils of fear probing his mind at the dangerous territory this conversation was steering towards and the clinical and detached way in which his friend was interrogating him. But what _was_ the problem?

"I –"

The problem was that he didn't have a clue what was going on.  
He didn't know how Akkarin felt about him and didn't know whether anything they might have was even worth pursuing in the first place. There was also Laria to consider, as well as his own family, Akkarin's family and what something like that would or could mean for their friendship at the moment – Lorlen wasn't even sure of what it was he felt for Akkarin in the first place!

"Lorlen?"

"I don't understand!" he cried out, hiding his face in his hands.

That seemed to throw the Warrior a little bit, because the sudden torrent of questions halted.  
"I don't know what's going on because I'm not sure what I want…or what he wants from me…" He continued, only realizing the truth of the words as he said them. Akkarin tensed slightly next to him.

Neither of them said anything for a while after that and Lorlen found himself growing curious about his friend's strange behavior.

"Perhaps I can help." Akkarin stated some time later, and this time it was Lorlen's turn to be confused.  
"I'm no relationships expert - but I can tell that you quite obviously want this person; whoever they are. I'm also going to assume judging by your confusion that you've been friends with them for quite some time, but you're no longer sure if the two of you are just friends or something more than that – which is why neither of you seems to know what the other wants and why you're so nervous about admitting you even like them in the first place, because that would be accepting defeat and admitting that there is no way back to how it was before."

Lorlen remained deathly silent, listening to Akkarin.

"However…" He paused for a short time and his eyes narrowed, "there's more to it than that. There's something about _this_ person in particular that makes things _far_ more complicated, something about them that others would not approve of should they become anything more than a friend to you."  
"And you know that if anything _were_ ever to happen between you two, that you would almost certainly risk upsetting quite a few important people – unless you tried to keep it a secret, but that will almost certainly fail in the end; and you also run the risk of losing them in the process…"

The Warrior fell silent for a few moments before glancing back at his friend with a rueful smile, "Or have I got it entirely wrong?"

Lorlen remained frozen in position, his face far paler than normal. He blinked once slowly, the only outward sign that he was still alive and conscious. He gulped quietly, his throat suddenly exceedingly dry.

"No, no – I'd say that was pretty accurate." He answered in a small far off sounding voice.

Indeed, Akkarin's description of his scenario wasn't just accurate – it was _scary_. How had he figured out so much using such little information? The only thing that kept the Healer from accusing the other of reading his surface thoughts, was that Akkarin had referred to 'them' as female on several occasions.  
But even that reasoning seemed feeble and weak now he considered it. Oh, he was _doomed_. If Akkarin didn't already know, it was obvious he would know soon enough – if he was clever enough to piece together that much by himself, whilst supposedly drunk; he should have realized how he felt about him…  
He emptied half of his wine glass in one gulp, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste, keeping the glass in his hands as he sloshed the remaining liquid to and fro.

"What should I do?" The tone of Lorlen's question made it sound more like a statement.  
Akkarin made a soft sound, something between a sigh and snort, and shifted across the cold stone of the University step towards his friend; the Warrior casually sliding an arm around Lorlen's back to curl around his waist thus pulling them even closer.

"I suppose that depends," he murmured directly into the younger man's ear, as Lorlen closed his eyes and forced back a shudder, "on just how much you _want_ them."  
The Healer's eyes snapped open, breath hitched in his throat; just as a hollow metallic chime shattered the rising tension in the air, and at the same time, smashed through any lingering indecision the Healer had.  
He now knew _exactly_ what he wanted.

Akkarin pulled his face away from Lorlen and looked up in alarm, dark eyes glazed over as he listened to the bell. How long had he spent here sitting outside with Lorlen? Had eleven o' clock already come and gone? Time was something he'd completely lost track of while he had been sitting there. OK, how many bell chimes? He began to count. _One…_

Lorlen bit his lip – how was he going to do this?  
He couldn't very well _ask_ Akkarin straight out, but then surely he couldn't do the alternative either, that was even _worse_.  
But…actually no, this entire thing was a bad idea – maybe it was best if he did nothing, after all it wasn't too late…

_Two…_

The Healer was beginning to tremble now, all the energy from the nervous excitement making his bones vibrate as he bit back a fit of hysterical laughter at just how utterly _petrified_ he was. Another part of him wanted to screech at himself for showing such weakness – he was Lord Lorlen, a Healer of the Magician's Guild; and he would not implode or explode at the mere _thought_ of showing a little backbone.  
If the worst should happen, he would blame it all on the alcohol and deny all knowledge of it.

_Three…_

Exactly – if anything went wrong he could blame it on the wine.  
Besides, he'd told himself before he arrived here that night that 'he had nothing left to lose' and that 'for one night only, consequences could all take a running jump'?  
Well, yes, OK, he had, but–  
And then Lorlen breathed in the smell of the warm pressed against his side, and detected something that wasn't right…it was…_perfume. A woman's perfume._  
He remembered how Laria had draped herself over him when Akkarin had stood on the balcony, had kissed him once they'd landed, had kissed him again when they'd just started talking…

_Are you telling me that you would let _her _have the last laugh?_

Lorlen abruptly drained the rest of his wine glass, slipping a hand up the back of Akkarin's neck and into his hair as the Healer pulled him down for a kiss.

_Fou -_

Meanwhile in the background, the bells began to chime merrily as the clock struck midnight.

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**A/N: Yeah, I did have to end it there XP. Please don't kill me?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey everyone! Not exactly rapid, but still kind-of-ishy quick for me at least ^_^. We have arrived at the penultimate chapter (assuming that the last chapter doesn't turn out to be so long I need to cut it in half. I REALLY hope that doesn't happen...) Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed and alerted this story! I can't believe how much you guys like this! *squeal of delight* Anyway...um...**

**Oh yeah, sorry about the evil cliffie - just couldn't resist it XP. This chapter ending isn't too bad, just hinting at things to come I guess...**

**I'm going to upfront and honest - this chapter isn't that good. Apologies in advance. I dunno, it just wouldn't write properly. Hopefully the next chapter will be better. **

**Nothing to really warn about (though I must apologise again**** for this being a bit of a filler chapter - I just wanted to write one that was Akkarin-centric T_T): other than _slightly_ douchebag Akkarin, who may or may not be redeemed by the end of the chapter, and a rather miffed OC. No Lorlen for now I'm afraid - he's back next chapter.**

**Thanks to Shalane for proof-reading *hugs***

**I don't think there's anything more I need to say...**

**Reviews are always welcome! Oh - free virtual cookies to anyone to sees the song reference in this chapter!**

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When the clock chimed next, a quarter of an hour later, the scene was slightly different.

For one, there were no longer any magicians sitting on the stairs of the University entrance. The pale grey of the stones had taken on a hostile, harsh quality due to the bright lights from inside as the party continued on regardless of what had occurred there a few minutes beforehand.

Had Akkarin been paying attention, he probably could have spent a few minutes analyzing to himself why the stones looked that way; was it just the light or were the rocks somehow expressing the current mindsets of the two magic wielders who had stayed there for the best part of two hours?  
However, at that point in time, the Warrior did not seem at all silent, brooding or contemplative as perhaps he should have been – instead, he was _laughing_.

He'd gone back inside a couple of minutes after the stroke of midnight and headed straight for the nearest crowd of people he could find; a few dazzling smiles and light hearted comments later and Akkarin had managed to seamlessly attach himself into the conversation, forcing himself to try and look engrossed in...whatever it was they were talking about – the Races.

There was a time in his life where Akkarin had known just about everything there was to know about horse racing; he'd been taught how to ride a horse from a very early age.  
Some of his family joked that he had learned to ride a horse before he'd started talking and Akkarin didn't try to deny it – in their efforts to create a perfect son, his parents had gone a little over the top in terms of extra-curricular classes when he'd been younger.  
They didn't care too much about his academic smarts, deeming them of little use since he was already destined to succeed as head of the House of Delvon in his father's place; as long as he was charismatic, a fast learner and an effortless liar – everything else would simply fall into place.

There were certain things Heads of Houses simply _had_ to have if they were to be respected by the others, and one of these requirements was a collection of race horses.  
Every other Freeday, until Akkarin joined the Guild, his father had taken him to the Races to watch their horses race.  
For a long time, the young noble had looked forward to these outings and wished to become a jockey himself when he was old enough. His father had sniffed in disapproval at the idea, but never openly rejected it, and that was all the approval the boy had needed.

But that was all in the past now; the only times he ever went to the Races nowadays was when he asked a girl out – there wasn't really anything else for young people to do on Freedays, and the thought of staying inside when the weather outside was pleasant made him grouchy. Keeping indoors had been Lorlen's forte.

Thoughts of the Healer automatically made his lips buzz and tingle with a cold heat and instinctively he reached up to touch his mouth, but quickly diverted the hand so it looked like he was scratching his nose instead. Akkarin exhaled through his mouth silently and the sensation of the warm air ghosting over the sensitive flesh causes him to shudder as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. His stomach gave a little lurch and his heart fluttered, and he growled under his breath for being reduced to this state. _Damn_, he was such a mess at the moment.

_Not as much of a mess as Lorlen probably is though_.

Akkarin knew he would have been lying to himself if he said it that the kiss was _completely_ unexpected; though what had shocked him more than actually _being_ kissed by his friend, was that it was _Lorlen_ who had initiated it - the _same_ Lorlen that used to whinge at him for stealing Gerrel's diary and hanging it from the University entrance, and had refused to talk to him for almost a week when Akkarin had doodled on his face whilst he was sleeping (it wasn't like he'd _known_ that ink wouldn't wash off!).  
But back to the point, the Warrior had never thought Lorlen would have mustered enough confidence to pull off something that audacious. It completely went against everything he knew about his friend, and once more the question of just how well he knew the Healer rose to the surface of his mind…

Around him, there was another bout of hearty laughter as the conversation took a natural pause and Akkarin couldn't help but laugh along with them.  
Heavens, how _ridiculous_ was he being? It was only a kiss! A _drunken_ kiss from a _friend_!  
This was no big deal; Lorlen would probably be _horrified_ by what he'd said and done in the morning, they'd meet up before his departure and apologize to each other for what had happened whilst they moaned about the hangover headaches; all would be well again – no hard feelings.  
Besides, _everyone_ did stupid things when they were drunk.

Sighing to himself and resisting the urge to roll his eyes at how much he had blown it out of proportion (all those stupid thoughts of confronting Lorlen or leaving even earlier so he could avoid meeting the Healer before he left) – the answer was simple; he would stay here for a few more minutes and see his guests off, then he would find a bottle of Anuren Dark (apparently that was meant to be an _exceptionally_ good tasting wine) and look for Lorlen.  
When he found him, they would go and sit by the spring, get thoroughly wasted on expensive alcohol and pass out there with dopey grins on their faces – just like old times. _Perfect!_

A genuine smile stretched across his face as he was able to turn his full attention to the conversation he had joined by accident, and soon found himself contributing his own opinions whilst slowly but surely the attention of the crowd began to focus around him.  
He allowed himself a grin at how effortlessly he had taken over, the growing number of people wandering over to listen to the conversation. _Like moths to a metaphorical flame._ Everyone was looking at him now whilst he relayed a story about how a cousin of his had thrown a party the night before his marriage and woke up the next morning upside down dangling outside from third floor balcony, suspended by a table cloth someone had tied around his ankle. He'd told that story to most of those people present before, but nevertheless, they all laughed as though it were the funniest thing they had ever heard; people clutching at their stomachs and at the shoulders of others to stop themselves falling over.  
Akkarin felt a thread of disgust and contempt at these people – for all their wealth, education and life experience they still trailed after members of the most influential families like mindless reber. _Pathetic._

Sensing that his positive attitude was fading fast once again, he politely excused himself from the crowd, feeling the gazes of a few that watched him leave boring into his back.  
Shrugging off the stares and the stress of entertaining the masses, he closed his eyes and rolled his neck around to relieve any remaining tension. Hearing one particularly satisfying click, he smiled and headed over to a large table, dotted with the last of the wine glasses, each filled with a generous amount of a dark red liquid. Akkarin's throat suddenly felt paper dry as he looked at all the drinks still remaining and he reached out to one glass in particular.  
It was only then that he felt a small prickly sensation on the back of his neck, and it made him want to squirm in discomfort.  
Looking over his shoulder, he broke out into a relieved smile at the Alchemist purposefully walking towards him.

"Ah Terrell!" Akkarin turned back to the table and reached for another glass, not aware of the darkening scowl on the other's face. "Care for a glass of wine?"  
The tall Alchemist halted abruptly a few feet away from Akkarin, his expression clearing in an instant. He stared blankly at the Warrior's happy, smiling face and at the glass of wine extended out to him.  
Akkarin watched in surprise as Terrell's face suddenly morphed, twisteing with anger and disbelief as the Alchemist opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to change his mind at the last minute; making a rude noise as he walked away from the Warrior, heading towards the University entrance.

Akkarin gazed after Terrell with a shocked, slightly hurt look on his face. _What was _that_ for?_  
Shock quickly turned to anger as he took a step forwards.  
"Hey!"  
The Alchemist neither stopped nor looked back. The Warrior, now scowling heatedly at being ignored, put down the second wineglass and stormed after the taller magician, gaining a few curious looks and whispered comments from the crowd. Akkarin finally managed to clamp a hand down on Terrell's shoulder just as they reached the top of the University stairs.  
"What the_ hell _is your problem?"  
The taller magician just looked at Akkarin with the same disbelieving expression.

"You're_ incredible_! I can't believe you'd just _abandon_ Lorlen like that, actually no - I _can_ believe that – I just never knew you were that shallow! _Five years _–"  
Much of the crowd inside were listening to the conversation with eager expressions. The Alchemist glared darkly at them and pulled Akkarin further away from the entrance.  
"_Five years_," he hissed, "and you _still_ wouldn't choose him over _those_ people? What kind of friend does that make you?"  
Akkarin looked stunned, a crushing dread and regret seeming to claw at his insides.

_No, but...but…_

"It's wasn't like that!"

The Alchemist looked incredulous.

"Oh? Then how _was_ it like?"

The Warrior's mind went blank. _Uh…_  
_But, no! It hadn't been like that at all! He'd…I'd…_  
Lorlen_ had been the one to walk off! He'd stopped kissing me, then got up and ran away! I hadn't abandoned him at all…_  
_But...I...I _should_ have gone after him..._

Akkarin opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Terrell snarled and snorted at him.  
"_Exactly_."  
The Alchemist continued to walk down the steps.  
"You know what?" he said as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, "I'm _glad_ you're leaving tomorrow – if only for his sake."

The shorter magician had no reply to that, not that he reckoned he'd have been able to speak anyway. It was as though that comment had shorted out every nerve and muscle in his body; leaving him helpless to watch as Terrell continued on towards the forest. When at last, Akkarin managed to speak, it was almost too late.

"Where are you going?" he called out weakly.

"To find him – unlike you, not _everyone_ around here takes him for granted."

As the Alchemist walked away, Akkarin didn't move a muscle, finding he no longer seemed to have the energy. He just felt…tired and rather depressed in general. And the thought of having to back in and try to make small talk again with a bunch of aristocratic numbskulls made him want to hit his head against a wall.  
He watched Terrell pass the High Lord's Residence and enter the forest, and took a step forwards.

_I should probably go after him; go see how Lorlen's doing. This does seem to be mostly _my_ fault after all…_

But Lorlen would now have Terrell to go talk things over with.

_That's not the same and you know it._

Akkarin sighed. The thought of going to see Lorlen was almost as unattractive as going back inside and facing his guests. _Almost_.

The Warrior re-entered the University with a weak little smile on his face as he addressed the remaining guests.

"OK everyone, its past midnight and I have to be up and ready to leave in a few hours. Let's wrap this up soon."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, not much happens here - sorry. I promise next chapter will make up for it ;-). Hang on in there everyone, we're almost finished!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey everyone! Ooh, it's been quite a while since I updated...heehee, whoops =S. I can kinda vouch for that though. This chapter refused to write itself for ages, and then I went on holiday, managed to write a bit then - but most of it has been written since I got back, and I've had work every other day...and then there was the exam results...**

**But anyway, somehow, I've managed to ramble this final stretch into two chapter *facepalm of shame* so no - ONCE AGAIN, this isn't the final chapter. But the next is. Defo. There is no way in hell even I can drag what's left out for two chapters...right? *silent prayer of hope***

**I'd like to thank everyone once again for their support and encouragement, I'm not exactly sure what to say because all the positive comments has left me a tad speechless =S**

**Um...warnings? Err...nowt that I can think of. Introducing some BMT canon characters, mostly just mentions for now, but yeah, I hope we'll see them again later on ^_^. Yaoi, an Akkarin who needs to figure out what the hell it is he wants and Lorlen (that pretty much says it all.)**

**Extra thanks to Shalane and Sheepy Pie for betaing reading this and for giving me such positive responses! *hugs***

**OOH - there's a possibility that by next chapter, the title for the fic will have change - bit random I know, but it's been something I've been debating for ages...**

**Damn, I need to shut up (see! this is why the chapters are so long!) Enjoy reading! R & R if possible!**

* * *

Shards of light sliced through darkness, casting eerie silhouettes across the uneven landscape of the forest floor. The trees snarled at its source, a lone globe light suspended in mid-air, gnarled branches were sneering as though angry they had been awoken from their slumber.

But Lorlen remained unaffected by their hostile glares as he stared back into the woodland, his eyes scouring his surroundings for anyone or thing that could be approaching.

He'd chosen his location carefully, needing time on his own to think and worry over what exactly he had done only a few minutes beforehand.

He was far away enough from the Guild that no-one could accidentally stumble across him by a mistake – only the truly insane or the foolish dared to enter the forest at night (but that was OK because he fit into both categories right now), but still kept his distance from the city so that there was no risk of the more unsavoury members of Imardin's society finding him…Not that that was a problem, he could fight back if that happened and –

Oh, who was he trying to fool?

Lorlen hadn't rooted himself in the centre of a woodland because it made sense strategically.

He was _scared_, drunk and so unhappy he'd gone numb all over – _this_ was his attempt at trying to hide from civilization for as long humanly possible.

Also, he liked it there by the spring.

And well…yes, OK, it did remind him a little of all the times he had spent there with Akkarin.

Was that _really_ such a crime considering the circumstances?

Thanks to the stupid 'harhar, let's be spontaneous for once' crap he'd spouted at the beginning of the party (admittedly, the alcohol hadn't helped much either), his friendship with Akkarin had no doubt all but vaporized, and what was worse – he wouldn't even have time to explain himself or try to fix his mistake because his friend was leaving in a few hours!

He huffed quietly and knocked over a small wooden statue of a horse's head, the sound of it colliding with the wooden board beneath it hollow yet loud in the near silence. The piece rocked awkwardly from side to side as though in agony, unable to travel far due to its unusual shape, so Lorlen chose to end its suffering. He picked it up and inspected it closely.

The knight was often considered the most useless of the pieces on the back row of a chessboard; its movement was restricted to only an L-shape, which made it confusing for some, and so was often abandoned or sacrificed to save something more powerful.

However, for some reason, Lorlen liked it; possibly because it was just so weird and different from all the other pieces.

He had once been told that life in itself was like a game of chess, you were one side and life was your opponent. Akkarin had heard that saying before as well and had tried to explain it to him, but…well…obviously it still hadn't made sense to him after that either.

_"It's simple," Akkarin had said as he leaned forwards to move a piece, "for every action you make, life will always try to put something in your way to block your path or make your journey that much harder." _

_Lorlen stared at the chessboard intently, a small frown on his face. _

_It was a Freeday today, one of the last they would have before their Fourth Year at the Guild came to an end, and oddly enough Akkarin had decided to spend the _whole day_ with _him_, instead of being out at the Races, or wherever it was he went. _

_The Races were not on today as a mark of respect for a jockey who died during the week – so Lorlen suspected that his friend was only here because he had nothing else to do. _

_But he wouldn't complain or bring it up – it was good just having Akkarin here in the first place, sat by the spring, playing chess._

_The older magician removed one of Lorlen's pieces and put one of his own in its place, casually throwing the wooden item into at the growing heap of chess pieces in a small wooden box._

_"Every time you overcome an obstacle, a piece is knocked over and you get one step closer to achieving your ultimate goal."_

_Lorlen grinned a little,_

_"And what's _your_ ultimate goal then?"_

_Akkarin's gaze suddenly became distant as he tilted his head to the side in thought._

_"I suppose…_my_ ultimate goal would be to travel. Get out of this place and see the world, have new experiences, meet new people. And then…"_

_He stopped, his smile faltering as his gaze dropped to the ground. Lorlen frowned at his friend's expression. It seemed so…so..._

_"What about you?"_

_Lorlen looked up._

_"Huh?"_

_Akkarin chuckled quietly._

_"What's _your_ ultimate goal?"_

_Lorlen blinked, not expecting the question to be thrown back at him. _

_"Um…" He had no idea. "I don't…think I have one…". This time, Akkarin frowned._

_"Well, that's no good. You have to have _something_ to work towards." He paused. He sniggered._

_"Maybe that's why you can never beat me at chess – you don't know what you're fighting against."_

_Lorlen opened his mouth to protest, then huffed when he realized he had nothing to say in return._

_"Hmph. Maybe."_

_Akkarin laughed once more._

_"No but honestly," he continued, his face suddenly serious, "even if you don't have an ultimate goal – you should at least have something to aim for."_

_Lorlen frowned, staring at Akkarin, wondering where this sudden change in tone had come from. Come to think of it – his friend hadn't finished telling him what his ultimate goal was either! _

_Perhaps, he didn't want to talk about it…but why?_

_"Unless…"_

_He'd uttered it so quietly Lorlen almost missed it. Akkarin was looking at him with the strangest expression on his face._

_"Unless what?" Lorlen asked, suddenly feeling uneasy._

_Akkarin didn't reply. He just kept on staring at him, as though he was looking for something._

_"Akkarin?"_

_The taller magician stopped glaring at once and smiled brightly at Lorlen, whose heart gave an involuntary squeeze._

_"Don't worry about it."_

_Lorlen scowled. He _hated_ it when Akkarin did that._

_"What are you waiting for anyway?"_

_His friend's voice made him forget everything he was about to say. Lorlen gazed at him with a perplexed look on his face. Akkarin grinned._

_"It's your move." He said, gesturing back to the chessboard._

Lorlen never did find out what his friend planned to do once he returned from his travels. If he returned…

It didn't seem fair that Akkarin was leaving now. Everyone Lorlen truly cared about either died - like his parents, or just left…

And it was only now, amongst the calm and silence of the forest, that he realized that kissing his friend, however good it might have felt at the time, was the worst possible thing he could have done. He'd ran away before he'd had time to properly gauge Akkarin's reaction, but Lorlen wasn't sure it mattered anymore; every possible outcome he could think of led to one conclusion - he was doomed.

Even if by some miracle Akkarin consented to this…extremely messed up fling, he would be leaving later today anyway so there would be no real relationship, no time to actually sort out what was going on and how the _hell_ it was supposed to work out.

And if Akkarin didn't agree to…_this_, if the Warrior was sat back in the University, utterly disgusted and cursing his name like there was no tomorrow – well…the prospects actually looked a little _better_.

Lorlen trusted his friend enough to know that even if Akkarin was enraged or offended beyond belief, he wouldn't go ballistic and tell everyone what had happened (if he did, Lorlen could always say he was drunk and feign ignorance).

Hopefully by the time Akkarin got back, they'd both have had time to deal with tonight's events and get over it, so things would be relatively back to normal by then.

Maybe Lorlen would have found a girlfriend by then, someone to take his mind of the young Warrior.

So, wait, he actually _wanted_ Akkarin to turn him down?

_Well – _

_Yeah…kind of…well…err…_

Lorlen scoured his mind looked for help in finding a solution. However, it seemed the logical, intelligent part of his brain felt no sympathy at all for his current situation.

_Don't ask me - it's your own damn fault this even happened in the first place._

Lorlen huffed.

_I'm never doing anything spontaneous ever again. Never tell consequences to take a running jump, keep them chained and padlocked to your wrist at all times._

Look at where his sudden lack of caution had gotten him – hunched over by the spring, arguing with himself while he played chess, on his own, in a forest not even Guild magicians would enter at this time of day. Lorlen's self-loathing had never been greater. _This is why I hate parties._

Pulling himself together as he realized moping and self-pity would solve nothing, he forced himself to re-focus on something to take his mind of his current predicament – the chess game.

**_- Lorlen!_**

The Healer's face snapped up at the mental communication, his gaze feverishly scanning the horizon for a face as he forced the globe light to shrink and lower itself closer to the ground.

It was Terrell. The Alchemist had actually come out here looking for him.

The Healer wasn't sure whether to cry out in relief or fury.

In the end, he opted for neither, disappointment and a heavy treacle-like dread dribbling into stomach. As much as he valued their friendship, the Alchemist wasn't the person Lorlen hoped would be searching for him.

Akkarin hadn't come.

_He still hasn't come after me_.

And that meant…

**_Lorlen?_**

Terrell's presence was closer now than before, but Lorlen didn't even need to tell himself to extinguish the globe light. This confirmation of Akkarin's feelings towards him now made all the walls around his mind and focus crumble away in silence.

As though all the light from his world had been snuffed out.

His mouth parted slightly in what could possibly have been the start of a noise of the utmost pain, but his breath had all but solidified in his throat. A great shudder shook Lorlen's body as he felt a soft liquid heat begin to pool behind his eyes.

"Lorlen."

It was uttered so quietly, but that only made it worse. He could hear the concern and pity in that voice and his eyes began to sting in shame. Something deep inside him fractured.

A short distance above his head, a speck of light willed itself into existence and Lorlen scrambled to his feet in horror as the globe light expanded, his hand clenched tightly around the small wooden knight figurine.

As he'd predicted, Lorlen could only make out Terrell's vague outline through the watery haze that covered his eyes, and he quickly diverted his gaze. The Healer's face burned almost painfully with a sudden fury at the unauthorized intrusion and the extreme humiliation at being discovered in such a pitiful state.

He suddenly wanted nothing more than for the Alchemist to leave at once.

"Terrell." The word is heavy with misery and hard to speak through the lump in his throat.

A suffocating silence lingered for a few moments and Lorlen bowed his head further as he clenched his fists at his sides, the chess piece giving him a small, unexpected source of comfort.

"Lorlen, look at me."

The Alchemist's words came out in a sudden rush as he took a hasty step forwards, causing Lorlen to tense as his head jolted up to meet the other's gaze squarely.

Terrell halted at the startled fearful look on the other's face, his cheeks wet with tears and complexion made unnaturally pale by the globe light. A knot tightened in his stomach and he forced himself to relax and stay put. He gave the Healer a lopsided smile.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Lorlen blinked, his eyebrows knotted together in confusion and irritation. This man shouldn't be here. This was _his_ private place. His and Akkarin's. And as horrible as it sounded, Terrell was corrupting it with his mere presence. Lorlen needed to get him away quickly.

"Tell you what?" the Healer answered, feigning ignorance.

The Alchemist frowned deeply, glaring at Lorlen as though offended. How could he begin to answer that question? All the replies flooded to his lips, but there was too much trying to get out at once. His mouth remained parted but in the end nothing came out and Lorlen was grateful for the silence – he didn't want to be interrogated now. Not like this.

Terrell sighed deeply.

"Why are you all the way out here anyway?"

The Healer looked away. He shrugged.

"…I like out here, it's quiet and peaceful…and I just needed to get away from the noise of the party for a while; get some fresh air, gather my thoughts."

It wasn't strictly a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth either; Lorlen knew it, and he was sure Terrell had realized it too. A tense silence settled over the two magicians for a few moments.

The Alchemist's gaze then dropped down to Lorlen's hand, eyes narrowing slightly as he strained to see what it was. The globe light drifted over to help him. Terrell gave Lorlen an amused little smirk.

"I didn't know you played chess, Lorlen."

The Healer's fist clenched around the knight on impulse.

_There's a _lot_ of things you don't know about me._

Lorlen berated himself for being so defensive.

_There's no need for it_, he reminded himself, _Terrell just wants to help_. _Be grateful _someone_ does._

"Yes, I've been playing for the last five years now. My cousin taught me the basics just before I left for the Guild."

_But Akkarin was the one who taught me to play properly._

The Alchemist hummed quietly, his expression contemplative as he regarded the chessboard.

"Whose move was it?"

"Black."

The taller magician opened his hand and Lorlen tried not to show his reluctance as he dropped the piece into it.

"Show me where it was before."

The Healer _really_ had to force back a protest then. Surely Terrell wasn't planning to sit down with him and have a match _now? _Did he not understand that it was taking a lot of willpower to force himself not to yell at him to go away and leave him alone?

Lorlen gestured to the square and Terrell's face took on a thoughtful expression. The Alchemist paused for a few moments, inspecting the board, before he bent crouched down and moved the knight; knocked over the opponent's queen and…and…_checkmated_ the enemy king. The other magician looked on in mild shock. One move away? It had been so close! How…how had he not seen it before?

Terrell stood back up again and turned to the Healer.

"Are you going to be alright now?"

Lorlen blinked at the board and then at his friend, and suddenly felt a little strange; as though something had somehow slotted into place.

_"Every time you overcome an obstacle, a piece is knocked over and you get one step closer to achieving your ultimate goal."_

"Yeah…" he answered, though his stomach felt weird now for reasons he could not explain.

"I think I'm going to be OK now." He smiled. "…Thank you. I owe you for this."

The Alchemist grinned back. He shook his head.

"You don't owe me anything," the smile suddenly began to melt off his face, "but…before I go, if you'd allow me, could I request something of you?"

Lorlen blinked.

"Of course."

Terrell took a step towards the Healer, mere inches now separating them and the Alchemist could feel Lorlen's breath on his face.

"I would ask that you remember one thing." He muttered quietly.

The Healer stared at him, paralysed by the other's proximity and the sudden inability to breathe.

"Wh –"

The Alchemist raised a hand to the other's cheek and let it settle there. Lorlen's eyes bulged and his lips parted as a light flush crept over his neck and face. Every coherent thought in mind at that moment seemed to vanish.

"_No _man is worth your tears."

A look of surprise and shock froze the Healer's expression in place. Lorlen didn't move a muscle, even as Terrell pulled away, bid him goodnight and vanished back into the forest - as though he had never been there.

* * *

As the last of the visitors left through the doorway of the University, Akkarin smiled brilliantly at them; graciously thanking them all for coming, shaking hands and exchanging the occasional clap on the back with the men and kissing the extended hands of the ladies.

Many wished him good luck on his travels and eagerly extended their services and homes to him should he ever pass by and find himself with nowhere to stay.

Ever the gentlemen, the Warrior flashed his trademark grin at them all, thanking them for their support and hospitality.

But honestly, after over half an hour of grinning at the blissfully ignorant guests who drifted outside in drips and drabs, Akkarin's face was beginning to ache from all the smiling.

The grip on his self control and his polite, charismatic host-like demeanour was beginning to fray, and he caught himself wanting to forcefully shove the last few of them out.

His hand automatically shot out to thank the final guest, his entire being set in a series of pre-determined actions that varied slightly depending on who he was speaking to.

"Good to finally speak with you, Lord Akkarin. I very much hope we shall keep in touch during your travels. Don't hesitate to send me any souvenirs you might find, and remember you're welcome to stay at my brother-in-law's house in Elyne anytime you wish."

The Warrior heard that clipped almost lilting voice and resisted the sudden urge to pull his hand away from the other's grip.

It figured somehow that Gerrell would have stayed behind until the very end to wish him farewell. The boy was in Laria's year and seemed to have made it his personal goal to suck up to him and his fiancée to the point of it becoming rather irritating. So irritating, he'd even tried to make the boy hate him by hanging his personal diary over the University entrance last year, without success.

Conveniently, Gerrell had expressed a sudden, passionate fondness for the Warrior Arts a couple of weeks before yesterday's Graduation Ceremony, and had even gone as far as to approach Akkarin for after-lesson tuition classes on 'the subtleties of engaging one's opponent in a duel', as he'd so eloquently put it.

Actually no, it was _Fergun_ who had said that - a Third Year novice who, oddly enough, had also approached him about extra Warrior classes, though his proposal had been a little…different. As far as he knew, Gerrell and Fergun had an uneasy truce-like friendship between themselves – no doubt forced to befriend each other by request of their parents. There was a whole group of them in fact, all wanting lessons from him exclusively, though those two were the 'ringleaders', for lack of a better word.

Whilst the older novice had chosen to approach Akkarin himself, Fergun's family had taken a _different_ route. Akkarin recalled when he had been cornered by the Novice's mother at the Races about a month ago.

They'd exchanged pleasantries at first, as seemed to be the norm whenever speaking with members of the upper classes. She had enquired about himself, his family, his engagement to Laria whilst subtly emphasized that her still single daughter had asked after him, before moving onto the topic of her son.

Akkarin could quite clearly remember having to spend a considerate amount of time talking absolute _nonsense_ about what a pleasant child Fergun was – perhaps that _was_ the case, but Akkarin hadn't cared then; the mindless conversation had been keeping him away from his date – and how the young man saw him as his inspiration for pursuing the Warrior Arts. And _then_, to add insult to injury, she had suggested that Akkarin take Fergun on as his novice after graduation! Thank heavens he had booked his travel arrangements for abroad in advance; as un-chivalrous as it was, Akkarin couldn't deny that he'd enjoyed the utterly dejected look on her face, once he'd told her.

What the parents and other close relatives of those poor novices failed to comprehend, was that competing against each other for the social boost of mixing with House Velan was not the greatest challenge they faced.

Akkarin was unbeaten in the Arena not only because his power was superior to theirs, but because his mind was logical, analytical – he could tell what moves and tactics the opposition would most likely use beforehand and construct his strategy around their weaknesses. And this method of analyzing could be applied for people as well.

Recently, he'd been paying close attention to this little group of fan-worshippers, their recent antics and behaviour around each other as well as around others – and he'd uncovered some rather _interesting_ information about them. _Especially_ Fergun. It would seem that the blond novice, and a few others, had taken it upon themselves to bully one of their peers – a scrawny young man called Dannyl.

Akkarin recalled that the unfortunate novice was being mentored by Lord Rothen – a genuine, kind-hearted Alchemist the young Warrior happened to hold a great deal of respect for. He also remembered that Dannyl had been at the centre of a rather malicious rumour spread by his apparent 'novice-to-be' stating that the young man was a 'lad'.

Akkarin was neither stupid nor naïve enough to not know what that term meant. But he failed to see how such news would affect Fergun, just as he failed to see why being a 'lad' deserved such a punishment.

And if there was one thing the young Warrior hated above all else, it was prejudice.

So when he had seen Lord Rothen's novice being ambushed by none other than Fergun yesterday afternoon before the ceremony, he'd taken one look at the smug expression on the blond and the flushed, enraged expression of the other, and decided to…_join_ their conversation.

Well, let's just say that Fergun had been added to the short list of people who knew through first-hand experience that Akkarin's wrath was a force to be feared. After sufficiently humiliating Fergun, Akkarin turned back to Dannyl, who had eventually managed to stutter and mumble his way through a few words of gratitude, with a decidedly mortified and embarrassed flush on his face.

Akkarin chuckled quietly at the memory. He'd decided he liked Lord Rothen's novice, there was something about him that made him want to smile…

The Warrior rarely ever took sides when it came to matters that didn't directly concern him – but he found it _impossible_ to just sit by and watch those he liked or respected suffer and not do anything to stop it.

He looked at Gerrell closely, his eyes never leaving the Novice's face as he shook his hand a little firmer than necessary.

"Thank you. I…_appreciate_ your generosity."

The novice inclined his head respectfully and bid Akkarin goodnight and good luck, before turning and trotting down the stairs and into an awaiting carriage. The Warrior watched as the vehicle drew away.

Ironically enough, Akkarin was not often one for trying to be a hero – that was Lorlen's job.

But, he did understand what his friend had told him on more than one occasion; that the world was not a nice place. It was not fair or just; and that good people were more likely to suffer than those that truly deserved it.

Any act of charity, small or otherwise, would at least help to lessen someone's burden. And that, for him, had been reward enough…

Whilst Akkarin would never agree with his friend's sense of voluntary martyrdom, he would admit that Lorlen's generosity and kindness of heart had been one of the things that had drawn him to the other, right back at the beginning. Well, his friend had always been oddly…fascinating in a weird kind of way.

The Warrior found himself smiling as he recalled a 14-year-old Lorlen dressed in brown novice robes, the permanent frown on his face and that deep crease between his eyebrows Akkarin would tease him about as the years passed. The Healer had freckles back then if he remembered correctly, dotted over his cheeks and across his nose; and a boyish face that completely clashed with his eyes, which were dark almost to the point of being black, and eerily dead and soulless for a child as young as he was.

And then he'd had his long dark hair, braided into a single plait that fell to his waist; and Akkarin was unable to stifle the laughter as he recalled that he'd first thought Lorlen was a rather attractive girl; as such, his first ever words to him had been some sort of cheesy chat up line the Warrior didn't wish remember. Lorlen's reply, and the first thing Akkarin had ever heard him say, had certainly been…_memorable_ to say the least.

The Warrior smirked and bowed his head slightly. Now, that same girl- _BOY_ was out there in the forest feeling utterly miserable because of a _huge_ misunderstanding. Akkarin wasn't angry or mad at Lorlen at all. He actually felt a little _flattered_ that his friend would trust him enough to know he wouldn't freak out. And besides, it wasn't as though Akkarin didn't _know_ he was attractive; he was told he was by people on a regular basis - it just seemed that even Lorlen was not immune to his irresistible charms!

He briefly saw an image of Lorlen's lost and helpless expression during the conversation they had had earlier, but Akkarin shoved it away forcefully.

_NO_, he thought to himself sternly.

_No_, he mused once again he'd calmed himself down.

Akkarin had his own story of how things were between them all mapped out in his head – and truth or not, that was what he would choose to believe. He would ignore Lorlen's entire heartbreak sob story, push aside the slip-up of the 'he' Lorlen had mentioned and tell himself that his friend was delusional from all the alcohol. The Healer read books all the time, of course he'd have a great imagination, and…yes, Akkarin was having a much harder time than he'd thought convincing himself this was the case.

_Just admit it, he likes you, you provoked him and he kissed you! _So what_? Him liking _one_ man, his _best friend_, doesn't make him a lad – Lorlen could just be experimenting. And even if he is, what difference does it make? It's still Lorlen!_

_But _I'm_ not a lad! Nothing will _ever_ happen, because _I don't like men_!_

_But you like Lorlen._

_No, I don't! _

_Then _why_ didn't you push him away? You know you could have easily overpowered him if you'd wanted to._

The Warrior scowled fiercely. He didn't want to think about this now; it was ruining his mood and giving him a headache. And he couldn't have heart-to-heart's when he was grouchy.

_Let's just get this over with._

Akkarin disappeared back inside the University and returned with a bottle of wine he had grabbed at random from a table being cleared away by his House's servants. With a renewed sense of determination, the Warrior bound down the stairs and walked briskly towards the darkness of the Guild forest.

As he proceeded, a sudden thought appeared his head, seemingly conjured up from nowhere.

_If Lorlen was a woman, you'd have kissed back wouldn't you. _

It wasn't even phrased as a question that required an answer. It was simply stating what he now knew to be the absolute truth, all denials and social reputations pushed aside for a moment – that statement was one of the few things about his current situation that Akkarin was certain of. And it made his blood run cold.

The Warrior's fear was displayed in the sudden stiffness of his movements, the way his heart throbbed in his chest. His footsteps quickened as grass below him morphed into moss, twigs and fallen branches. Akkarin's breath came out in shallow pants as he sprinted into the undergrowth, the wine in the bottle sloshing around as he pumped his arms with every stride.

He didn't even know why he was running in the first place. What was it he was running away from? If it was Lorlen, he was going the wrong way. But that notion was ridiculous in itself; this was _Lorlen_, for crying out loud! Though Akkarin couldn't deny he was feeling a little anxious; which was perfectly rational and natural he told himself, before his mind could concoct anymore disturbing reasons.

As he approached the spring, the Warrior saw a hovering globe light at snorted quietly at how terribly predictable his friend was. Akkarin had been the one to discover it back in their Second Year, but Lorlen came here more often than he did. His friend was there most times he wasn't in his room or in the Library reading some ancient fairytales.

The Healer was currently stood up, the globe light dangling in front of him at chest height, casting Lorlen's face into shadow. The Warrior could see now that his friend was not alone, and that confused him. The Healer had grown oddly protective of that small area around the spring over the years, and Akkarin had always found it amusing what a sentimental fool the other was. But he also couldn't help but feel a little annoyed that someone had beaten him to Lorlen.

_Throwing a tantrum because you don't have his undivided attention anymore? Maybe you should start learning how to share your toys._

Akkarin was startled by the violence of his automatic refusal to the idea. Since when had he become so defensive, so _possessive_? He didn't know and didn't really bother to look for an answer. All he knew was that Lorlen was _his_, and that was non-negotiable.

Heavens…what was _wrong_ with him? Someone was with his friend, being there when he actually needed somebody to talk to – and Akkarin's first reaction was to get rid of the intruder as quickly as possible. Eradicate. Like some sort of foreign virus.

Lorlen's visitor got to their feet from their crouched position on the ground and the globe light obediently rising in sychronisation, illuminating them both at once. The Warrior blinked, the recognition was instant and he cursed quietly for not remembering beforehand. Terrell had gone to find Lorlen. But that had been quite some time ago…how long had the Alchemist been there? _Too long_, a voice whispered in Akkarin's head.

He needed to speak to Lorlen alone, _now_. Their little _pep-talk_ would have to wait until later. The Healer beamed at the Alchemist, and the Warrior's blood began to simmer, his limbs locked in place.

This was wrong. This was _all_ wrong. None of this had been in his plan at all. Lorlen wasn't meant to be _smiling_, he should still be upset, broken – Akkarin was supposed to be the one who dried his tears and put him back together again, receive that beautiful smile as a reward.

_But you. Weren't. There._

**"You're _incredible_! I can't believe you'd just _abandon_ Lorlen like that, actually no - I _can_ believe that – I just never knew you were _that shallow_!" **

**"You know what?" he said as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, "I'm _glad_ you're leaving tomorrow – if only for his sake."**

_Only so you can have him all to yourself._

The Alchemist took a step forwards and everything seemed to freeze. The air clung to the sides of his throat, eyes trained on the two magicians standing by the spring.

Terrell reached out and stroked Lorlen's cheek, and Akkarin's mind went eerily quiet and still as he watched the Healer's reaction, followed the Alchemist with his gaze as he left and headed away from them both. Expressionless eyes flicked back to his friend, who was watching Terrell leave with a dazed look on his face. The youngest magician wordlessly began to turn back to the spring, sitting down with his back to Akkarin, a small globe light appearing over his head.

For a few moments, Akkarin seriously considered going after the Alchemist, remind him of his place. _He'd_ seen Lorlen first, _he'd_ known him _longer_ and knew him _better_ than anyone else; Terrell didn't deserve Lorlen – the thought of them together made him angrier than he could recall being in a long time…

He _had_ to get his friend back.

As he watched the Alchemist's globe light disappear into the distance, Akkarin suddenly remembered another part of his earlier conversation with Lorlen. He'd given his friend some advice.

**_"I'm no relationships expert - but I can tell that you quite obviously want this person…you've been friends with her for quite some time, but you're no longer sure if you and her are just friends or something more than that…"_**

**_"If anything were ever to happen between you two, you would almost certainly risk upsetting quite a few important people – unless you tried to keep it a secret, but that will almost certainly fail in the end; and you also run the risk of losing them in the process…"_**

**_The Warrior fell silent for a few moments before glancing back at his friend with a rueful smile, "Or have I got it entirely wrong?"_**

This situation that he was now in seemed unnervingly familiar somehow.

_No_, Akkarin stubbornly told himself, _it's not like that_. _It's not_. _It…but…then…_

A shudder racked his body as a heavy resignation and despair settled over him.

_How did this happen? Why? Why him? And...what…? _

**_"What should I do?"_**

Akkarin felt himself tremble slightly at the clearness of Lorlen's voice as the memory filled his mind.

**_The tone of Lorlen's question made it sound more like a statement._**

**_Akkarin made a soft sound, something between a sigh and snort, and shifted across the cold stone of the University step towards his friend; the Warrior casually sliding an arm around Lorlen's back to curl around his waist thus pulling them even closer._**

**_"I suppose that depends,"_**

The Warrior looked back at the seated figure in front of him, his dark silhouette illuminated by the globe light; making him look, somehow, not quite human. Like something…_special_.

**_"on just how much you want them." _**

* * *

Lorlen picked up the defeated King between him thumb and his index finger, and stared at it. He'd won. Admittedly, he'd had help from Terrell, but…the enemy king had been defeated. The oppression was over. Now what?

**_"What's _****your_ ultimate goal?"_**

Had he figured out what it was yet?

Well…no, not really.

Perhaps, he had a better idea of what it could be – something that involved healing or helping others, and being happy.

But…that could be anything. Did that mean he wanted to spend the rest of his life as a Healer here in the Guild? If so, surely he'd already achieved it – he'd graduated as a Healer today. However, it didn't seem enough anymore.

There was something wrong, out of place, missing. Broken. Something needed putting back together.

"Hello Lorlen."

_…Ah._

**A/N: *dodges flying objects* Yeah, I'll admit. That is an evil cliffie. Sorry *sheepish grin*...comments please?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey everyone *wide grin*! Well, this is it - well, kinda. Ishy...=S. There's gonna be an epilogue after this, just to round things off, I thought I could shove everything in one chapter, but by the end of this even I was like 'my God, will this NEVER end?' Hence *hesistates* don't go to crazy over the way this seems to end...as you should know my now, my happy endings are always of the double-edged variety...well, gotta keep you guys guessing haven't I ^u^?**

**This chapter was a first for me in some ways, and I ground to a screeching halt for a while, lucky Sheepy managed to break me out of my hysterical screaming and panicking (God I'm SO SORRY I put you through that XS *hugs*!) - so...yeah *hides***

**Warnings: Well, I guess this is the chapter you've all been waiting for - you know what that means XP. And the start of a brand new plotline! **

**Um...oh! THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHOSE READ/ALERTED/REVIEWED THIS *hugs, squeals and free cookies for all*. **

**I'm officially over the 110,000 word barrier O_O. For only 5 stories...that's proof enough I need to shut up and let you guys read ^^'**

**Enjoy! Give Dorrien a cuddle on your way out...**

* * *

Lorlen had decided almost instantly that he was not going to reply.

Something politely informed him that this somewhat childish act of defiance was in fact going directly against his plans to 'fix that that had been broken', but the Healer couldn't care less at that point in time. His mind was blank, his muscles refused to work – it was as though Akkarin's mere gaze had the power to render him paralyzed; strip away all the warmth and comfort Terrell had wrapped him up in only to leave him exposed, naked and vulnerable all over again.

How was it possible for one person's presence to change so much, so quickly?

He knew it shouldn't be, but it was; and Lorlen loathed it with every fiber of his being.

Akkarin had told him many times that despite his superior grades, personal wealth, popularity, charisma – the end list went on longer than he cared to remember – there was no leader in their friendship. As if to say that they were both equal to each other, and that Akkarin needed Lorlen in ways neither could quite comprehend at the moment. But the logic had never quite sat with Lorlen; and he questioned it now more than ever.

Everything that had led up to this confrontation had been as a result of him trailing after Akkarin – Lorlen had only agreed to go to the damn party because his friend had insisted, he sure as hell wouldn't have returned there if it were it not for the fact he wanted to talk to him.

The Healer would not have dared kissed anyone like that, were it not Akkarin – and here he was now, sat by himself in the dark, too scared to even turn around and look his friend in the eyes for fear of what he might see there. Anger? Betrayal? Hatred? Disgust?

And yet all Akkarin would have to do was give the order, and Lorlen would almost without question, do as he was commanded.

In that respect, he was no better than the servants that worked in the Velan family Manor – 'yes, my Lord', 'no, my Lord', 'Would you like me to shine your shoes, my Lord?'

Akkarin held a power over him that was staggering in its intensity, capable of overriding and obliterating anything else in his head at the time.

Romantic feelings aside, pretty much everything he had had been signed over to Akkarin the day they'd become friends all those years ago.

Lorlen knew he wouldn't leave the city whilst his friend was gone; he'd sit there back in the Guild reading his books, waiting for the day the other would return.

Because…because that was all knew now - this was what his life had consisted of since his mother passed away, and Lorlen was ashamed to say that he'd gotten used to it.

If nothing else, this was his way of repaying Akkarin for rescuing him from the state he'd been in back then. He owed him this.

There was a quiet sigh from behind him. Akkarin gave a little snort.

"Bit late for playing chess, isn't it?"

The corner of Lorlen's mouth twitched.

"It's never too late to play chess." He muttered softly as he put the wooden king chess piece back in its place.

Fabric rustled as the Warrior moved forwards and Lorlen gritted his teeth as a sudden jolt of fear made his spine lock and his heart jump.

_Equal partners? Don't be ridiculous._

Akkarin stepped around him and looked down at the board. Lorlen swore he heard him gulp.

"Mind if I join you? If your gracious opponent will allow me of course." The Warrior gestured to the empty space on the other side of the board.

The Healer would have laughed were the situation not quite so sad. Akkarin only ever cracked little jokes like that when he was in trouble or nervous. It was one thing to see him to do it when around others, but another thing entirely to be the one on the receiving end. For once, he was an equal partner in this little game of theirs and Lorlen intended to take full advantage of it.

"Actually, I believe the game has just ended. However - my opponent requested a re-match and I have already accepted." The Healer began to reset the board.

"Ah well," Akkarin said in a cheerful voice as he plopped down onto the ground at the other side, "your opponent may have his rematch after I defeat you first. But, don't worry, I'll go easy on you so he'll get his rematch before the end of the next decade."

Lorlen couldn't hold back a bark of laughter. After all this time, he'd almost forgotten what an arrogant, presumptuous little brat his friend was sometimes.

"Yeah yeah – don't rub it in."

So it was true that Lorlen had only ever officially beaten Akkarin twice at chess (that third one had to be abandoned halfway, but he knew he'd have won if he had only a couple more turns) – but up until the age of 14, he had only ever had one opponent, and she had been no expert at the game herself. He was therefore allowed to be worse than Akkarin. That was his excuse anyway.

Akkarin chuckled quietly under his breath, but the sound ended too quickly to be entirely unforced and Lorlen was only too aware of the suffocating tension that surrounded them like a thick, dense fog. He felt nervous and jumpy, his hands trembling slightly as he quickly and haphazardly set the pieces back in place before folding his hands back into his lap.

"If it's any consolation, I brought enough alcohol for all three of us." He held up a rather large bottle of wine. "Tell your imaginary friend that he's welcome to drink as much as he wants. He might want to be careful though, it's tykachi water imported from Sachaka – strong stuff, I hate for him to wake up with a migraine because I stole his chess opponent."

Lorlen found himself laughing, not at all caring that it was at his expense.

It did hold a certain amount of irony though – once again he was following Akkarin's orders without by laughing only because Akkarin had said deliberately said something that was supposed to lighten the mood.

Alcohol had also been what had started this whole mess in the first place, and here Akkarin was offering him even more.

And it was echoed also in the fact that his so-called 'imaginary friend' had been the one to stick by his side through this time of hardship, when his best friend of five years did not.

The Healer was actually beginning enjoying this game, liking the new sense of power and control that had eluded him for so long in the real world.

This time, it was a whole new board game, the tables had been reset – and Lorlen was fully aware of the rules. And how to bend them to his advantage.

A look of satisfaction ironed out the lines on his face as the Healer allowed himself to smile a little, his dark eyes became half lidded as he looked at the new game laid out before him. This…this could actually turn out OK as long as he played this right and didn't mess up…

Akkarin had turned up here of his own accord, and that gave Lorlen the home field advantage – he had a feeling he'd need it.

"Well then," the Healer declared as he reached for bottle of alcohol, "we'd better get a move on."

He unscrewed the lid and pressed the mouth of the bottle against his parted lips, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he took two long draughts. The alcohol burned the back of his throat, warming his insides as he forced himself not to pull a face at the bitter aftertaste that left his tongue feeling unnaturally heavy.

Tykachi water was only ever meant to be consumed in small amounts, poured into tiny glasses someone could hold between their thumb and index finger. Lorlen reckoned he'd just drunk the equivalent of about five of those glasses at once.

_Watch it! You can't afford screw this up by getting drunk again! _

He pulled the bottle away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, suddenly forcing himself to drag the action out longer as he caught the way Akkarin's eyes trailed after the hand ghosting over his own lips. _What…?_

_No. Surely he didn't mean it like that…surely not…_

Lorlen inspected the back of his hand, absently admiring at the way the moisture added a pretty sheen like quality that sparkled in the light from the globe dangling over them. _But what else could it be then?_

_This is wishful thinking; if he felt this way – why didn't he kiss back before? Why did he just let me go like that?_

The Healer let out a dry chuckle. Even now, towards the very end, Akkarin was full of surprises, always playing around.

The younger magician narrowed his eyes. _Well not tonight, this was his space and his game – if Akkarin wanted to play, he should expect consequences._ The servant was fed up of following his master around.

"I hope you realize by the way, that you seem to have forgotten to bring glasses with you – so it seems we shall have to take it in turns to drink from the same bottle." Lorlen handed the alcohol back to the Warrior, who stared at him with a dumbfounded expression, a slow comprehension relighting a fire, an unspoken challenge in that dark gaze. Akkarin's eyes narrowed.

Lorlen blinked, disregarding the other's darkening glare.

"What are you waiting for anyway?" Akkarin's expression cleared, confusion producing a small crease to form between his eyes.

The Healer smirked and gestured to the chessboard.

"It's your move."

* * *

The theory of cause and effect, however much Lorlen loathed its inevitability sometimes, was something that had never ceased to fascinate him.

He had no idea how much time had passed since Akkarin had arrived, only that it seemed like an age ago. The clock had long since stopped chiming, but yet there was still no sign of the sun whenever the Healer had glanced into the East, but then again, the towering trees would most likely have blocked out light anyway.

What were the chances that he would end up here, like this, after everything had happened tonight? If Akkarin hadn't decided he was leaving tomorrow, Lorlen probably wouldn't have gone to the party, wouldn't have kissed him - Akkarin would not have come after him and the two of them wouldn't be lying there now, chess game forgotten, back at the place it had all began.

The furry sensation of the moss against his back was soothing, even if the slope on which he lay was lumpy and uneven. Next to him, the tykachi bottle lay on its side, the small amount of the clear liquid remaining had collected at the side pressed against the grass. It wasn't even a mouthful, the Healer noted in a far off sad kind of way, diluted and weak.

He couldn't feel very much. Everything felt numb and heavy, as though his entire body and all his senses had been wrapped in reber wool and dunked repeatedly in a barrel of bol. But one thing he could feel – was the dopey grin plastered on his face.

Why was he so happy? The words stumbled across his mind, flailing around in an attempt to find something to connect with, but the search came up blank. He did like this though, just lying there, far too drunk to remember anything, with his best friend of five years lying a couple of feet away.

It was nice of Akkarin to come and find him. He hadn't really needed to, he hadn't actually done anything wrong – his friend hadn't done anything. Lorlen felt a little bad now for dragging the Warrior all the way out here when he had a party of guests to take care of.

Gurgh, he'd been acting like some love-stuck hormonal teenage girl all evening. Oh dear, did that mean he was no better than Laria? He'd only gathered up the courage to kiss Akkarin because he didn't want her to win completely…

Horror and disgust made his stomach churn unpleasantly. Had he no pride or self-worth at all? No wonder his friends felt the need to babysit him at social events.

The demented grin slid off his face and an apologetic frown took its place.

"Akkarin?" Lorlen's voice sounded alien to him, slightly hoarse from disuse.

"…Yeah?" The reply came back almost straight away, and the Warrior's voice sounded as clear as ever, though the tone was quiet and even.

The Healer's throat had suddenly gone very dry, and he swallowed hard but it made little difference. Part of him almost wished Akkarin had fallen asleep.

Lorlen let his head droop to the side so he could look at his friend.

"I'm sorry."

Akkarin, however, whose eyes had been shut, did not look back nor reply immediately. The younger magician winced a little, thinking the Warrior's silence only confirmed how angry he was with him.

Heavens, this wasn't how he'd wanted them to part!

He'd opened his mouth to try again, but the words fizzled out and died on his tongue.

_Let him sleep, you can tell him when he wakes up._

Lorlen's frown deepened as a lump lodged itself in his throat. He rolled back onto his back and closed his eyes. He felt more drained and exhausted than ever. It was time to get some sleep.

The Warrior had been doing some thinking whilst the Healer had been lying there in what Akkarin had thought was some kind of alcohol-induced coma; Lorlen had never been able to hold his drink very well.

He'd thought about what he planned to do when he left Kyralia in a couple of days time, about the party, how it went, about Laria and their engagement – and about Lorlen.

The silence and the lack of stress had allowed him to approach things from a much more rational point of view, and well…he wasn't sure what to do now.

The older magician knew now that there were things in his life that he could not change, that would not change regardless of whether he wanted them to or not. And…Akkarin found that he no longer had the willpower, or the strength to hold them back anymore.

He'd tried ignoring them, hoping that they'd just fade with time – but things were never that simple, and he couldn't quite believe he'd managed to convince himself they would for so long.

Lorlen had nothing to be sorry for, because Akkarin understood now that what had happened tonight between them – it had only been a matter of time. Everyone had their limits, and it seemed he'd finally pushed Lorlen past it. That by itself spoke volumes – the Healer was one of the most patient people he knew; if anything, Akkarin realized he should be grateful it had taken so long. One more day though, one more day and he'd have been miles away…

Fate, it seemed, was not without a sense of irony.

However, maybe this chain of events had unfolded tonight of all nights for a reason. It all pointed in one direction, but…he wasn't sure…if he was ready to follow that path yet.

_"I'm sorry."_

"So am I." he muttered. There was no reply.

* * *

Akkarin continued to lie on the forest floor in silence as his friend slept on soundlessly barely an arm's reach away. The soft texture of his makeshift bed had molded a little around his figure, as if to try and make him feel more comfortable, and this along with his growing weariness made him very reluctant to move from his resting place, though he had no doubt a bed back in the Guild would be infinitely better, warmer and less likely to give him pains from sleeping awkwardly.

He'd hadn't thought of much since Lorlen went to sleep, his mind had been mainly blank and empty – trapped in a state of insomnia, tired but unable to sleep.

A light trilling of a bird caught and held his attention, his eyes following the creature as it drifted high above him, silhouetted wings black against the sky. Equally dark eyes followed, followed, until his eyebrows knitted together suddenly as he sat up abruptly.

Against the midnight blue clouds that lingered over him, a golden sky had appeared further down the horizon. The bird flapped its wings a couple of times as it faded into the glorious light that beckoned the start of a new day.

Just how long had they been out there?

Akkarin hadn't meant for them to be out this late, or early depending on how you looked at it; no wonder Lorlen had fallen asleep, he must have been exhausted…

But he needed to get back to the Guild and sleep, if only for a couple of hours. The carriage would arrive to pick him up soon and he hadn't even finished packing yet. And he was sure Lorlen would be much more comfortable sleeping in a bed than he was now…

Akkarin turned to face the younger magician and shifted a little closer. He paused, at once reluctant to wake his friend up when he was obviously so tired and looked so…

The Warrior blinked once, hard, to snap himself out of staring. _Stop it._

He scowled at his own lack of control and bent over to shake his friend's sleeping form to shake his shoulder when he froze, his right knee suddenly squished on both sides by Lorlen's legs which had come together as the Healer shifted and muttered something under his breath, a quiet little purring noise rumbling from the back of throat as he arched his back upwards.

Mere inches above, Akkarin was paralyzed by the sight of the man underneath him, fear and horror locking his muscles in place.

_Heavens, if Lorlen woke up now…he'd be in _so much trouble_._

Having said that, the thought of being discovered like this, of Lorlen's adorably wide-eyed flustered expression and the way that slow flush would creep up his curl around his throat, rising over his fine jawline, spilling over onto his cheeks...

Akkarin's fingers dug into the soft earth either side of the Healer's head, his teeth gritted behind softly trembling lips. A part of him actually _wanted_ Lorlen to wake up, _needed_ him to acknowledge his presence and the fact that the Healer belonged to _him_, and him exclusively. _No-one_ was allowed to see Lorlen like this whilst he was away.

A devilish thought crossed his mind and the Warrior grinned darkly. His gaze swept across the other's soft features, landing on the small frown that marred the Healer's face. This was perfect; he'd get to claim Lorlen in a way no-one had before, and…

_But…_

This was wrong. He…he shouldn't want this, and his friend was asleep for crying out loud. Surely he wasn't this desperate. However…

His lips parted slightly of their own free will, eyes still mesmerized by that small frown.

_Say you don't want this. _It seemed to take a few moments for the thought to register, his mind was otherwise pre-occupied. Akkarin frowned, determined not to do this.

_I…I…I don't…want this_.

_Say it aloud._

The Warrior's lips parted a little more, the words in his head, but his tongue refused to co-operate. His mouth opened and shut a couple of times.

"I…"

_Say it._

"Err –"

_SAY IT._

His arms were beginning to tremble, a look of horror spreading across his features, as his control began to crack.

His voice came out in a breathy whisper.

"I…" _Oh no…_

His eyelids were beginning to flutter. Akkarin sank down slowly, his legs stretching out and his arms relaxing. The young man's heart began to thud painfully against the tightness of his chest.

Then he felt a warm softness against his lips and everything seemed to fade away.

* * *

Even in the years to come, Lorlen never managed to recall what it was he had been dreaming about up until that point. He knew it must have been a good dream though, because he remembered feeling warm, safe and happy.

The younger magician _did_, however, remember waking up to the feeling of something warm and very much _alive_ against pressed against his mouth. His heart had all but lurched into his throat. He'd gasped.

Akkarin's eyes shot open at the sound, and found himself staring straight into Lorlen's. Something cold and heavy slid down the back of his throat. His friend had woken up much quicker than he had expected, and he found himself seriously wondering if the Healer had ever truly been asleep at all. Lorlen placed his hands on the other's chest and pushed him back a little; and the warrior couldn't help but feel a little smug about his prediction about Lorlen's expression being right on target.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

The Healer sounded petrified, and for a terrible moment, Akkarin was sure he'd made the wrong decision. What the hell _was_ he doing? His mind went blank. _Think!_

"…giving you something to remember me by." He muttered quietly.

Akkarin waited, gaze dropping to the other's throat to avoid making eye contact. A few seconds passed, and Lorlen _still_ hadn't pushed him away yet. Hope was beginning to make his heart ache. The Healer's eyes went wide.

"But then…" Lorlen began to speak and Akkarin tensed, waiting for the damning blow of rejection, "shouldn't _I_ have gotten _you_ a present instead?" he replied with a naïve, almost child-like look on his face.

The older magician could have cried in relief, but settled for a low chuckle instead, bowing his head further. He glanced back up at Lorlen, a warm gentle expression shedding the stress and anguish away from his features. The Healer gazed back at him, and Akkarin agreed whole-heartedly that the way Lorlen looked now, with his cheeks still a little flushed, eyes bright from sleep and a tiny pout on his face made him look utterly…_beautiful_.

"Yes, you should have. But I'm willing to accept this as payment for now."

Akkarin's mouth pressed against his once more and Lorlen seemed to mould around him. The Healer sucked in a gasp, unable to hold back a shudder. The other man's lips pressed against his were oddly warm, and surprisingly soft, but insistent. Intoxicating.

Before he'd fully finished enjoying the sensation, Akkarin pulled away, studying his face, gauging his reaction; and Lorlen couldn't help but grin at the sheer irony of their current situation; whatever he'd been expecting the other to do in retaliation to the kiss the night before, it was _nothing_ like this.

This was so, _so_ much better than anything he'd ever anticipated, and Lorlen suddenly realized that he had never wanted _anything_ so violently in his life.

If Akkarin was leaving in a few hours for an indefinite amount of time, he _needed_ this, _needed_ some kind of connection to bind even a small piece of the other man here, with him. Something to convince him that this wasn't a dream…

The Healer pulled Akkarin into a tight embrace, fastening hungrily on to his lips, and the Warrior was startled for a moment by the sudden aggressiveness in Lorlen's actions, but it looked like his friend had made his decision, Akkarin reflected, and he'd be damned if he was going to back down and let Lorlen beat him at a game he'd mastered years ago.

He felt bad that his own pride and block-headedness accounted for a large part of why he was lying there between his best friend's parted legs, lips, tongue and teeth blazing fiery trails across his jawline and down the side of his exposed throat.

But Akkarin's guilt passed quicker than he expected; he'd always been a selfish, spoiled little brat and Lorlen should have realized that by now after all this time.

In the end, he _always_ got whatever or whoever he wanted, and truth be told, a part of him was disappointed that his friend, usually one of the clearest thinking, most intelligent people he knew of, wasn't the exception to the rule Akkarin had been searching for.

Not that Akkarin was complaining too loudly, though. His friend had had plenty of time to push him away; Lorlen obviously wanted this, so why should he have to deny himself?

The Healer pulled him back for another kiss and Akkarin pressed the kiss deeper still, letting the Lorlen slide his hands across his shoulders; and even through his shirt and waistcoat Akkarin could feel the heat of Lorlen's body crushed against his own, the soft smoothness of his palms around his neck and tangled in his hair. For a few terrible moments, the elder magician felt something within him waver dangerously – he felt light-headed and dizzy, his head spinning; and all that seemed to exist was Lorlen, the way he felt beneath as writhed beneath him, limbs wrapped around him, senses engulfed on all sides by the warm heady smell of alcohol and something herbal emanating from the Healer. It all seemed too much and Akkarin felt weak and overwhelmed, swept up in the heat of the moment – but the sudden thrill of being dominated was like a drug he couldn't get enough of; and he momentarily began to fear for his sanity.

Lorlen's hand ran down his spine and Akkarin shuddered, slowly comprehending that he was too far gone now to back out from this. This was no longer about just 'want' anymore; he needed this with a ferocity that made him a little frightened. Never before had he felt so utterly out of his depth and unprepared.

_Heavens, Lorlen, what have you done to me?_

Akkarin growled quietly in frustration, catching the Healer's bottom lip between his teeth and biting down hard. The other man yelped in surprise, jolting at the sudden pain and Akkarin yanked him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and fusing their bodies together. His hands were trembling from pent-up need as he trailed his fingers down to Lorlen's narrow hips. The Healer moaned softly, and the Warrior grinned.

Akkarin had no idea what he was doing, his mind had shorted out and his actions were no longer under his own control.

_This must be what insanity feels like, _he mused, and he wondered if Lorlen felt the same way he did. It was a dark path, the one he was trespassing; it led back into murky darkness, and Akkarin had no clue what was waiting on the other side. But if the journey so far had been this good, he was willing to risk it – and if he was going, Akkarin would definitely take Lorlen down with him.

* * *

Back at the Guild, the sun crept on silently, filtering through the trees and sending beams of dark gold reaching out across the dark wooden floor of the room on the top floor of the Magician's Quarters. Luminous blue eyes blinked slowly at the ceiling as their owner lay awake in bed, covers leaving most of his torso exposed from where he'd thrown them off during the heat of the previous night in a failed attempt to sleep to cool himself down and get some sleep.

Sunshine spilled over his left arm as it lay by his side, half dangling off the side of the bed, highlighting the paleness of his skin and accentuating the lack of muscles on his small frame.

Dorrien's gaze drifted down the golden patch on his arm, unable to feel the heat of the sun; though the light was bright and harsh against his weary eyes, and he forced himself to look away. The boy was bored senseless, unable to sleep but reluctant to move at the same time. He considered going to the bookcase and looking for something to read, but that involved getting up. Also, the floorboards creaked sometimes and he didn't want to wake his parents.

He knew about the event that had taken place in the University the night before, Akkarin's Graduation Party – everyone had known about it, even University Director Jerrik whom Dorrien had heard grumbling to his father about it only a few days ago.

Dorrien didn't know Akkarin personally, they'd spoken briefly a couple of times when the young man had come looking for his father, or in passing and exchanged the occasional nod or smile of acknowledgement whenever their paths crossed.

He seemed like a pleasant, genuinely kind person; but there was something about Akkarin that Dorrien couldn't quite pin down, but he knew it would prevent them from ever becoming good friends.

Perhaps it was because it was _Akkarin_, the Guild's teenage idol-like figure whom all future heirs of Houses aspired to be like.

He had everything: riches, connections, fans, friends who would stick by him no matter what – Akkarin had the perfect life, yet…somehow Dorrien could _tell_ he wasn't happy; not in the arrogant, gluttonous 'nothing is ever good enough for me' way, but genuinely…unfulfilled – as though there was something missing, something vitally important that he still evaded him even now…

Rothen's son closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side. A small rueful smirk formed on his lips. He was developing a rather annoying habit as of late, to over-analyze everything and everyone without exception.

Personally, Dorrien thought it was due to all the books he'd been reading about the human mind in the library when his father was busy teaching.

He knew the Alchemist found it a little unnerving that his 13 year old son could tell exactly what sort of mood he was simply by looking at him, his expression, the way he was standing, the types of words and gestured he used when speaking.

But his mother found it amusing and a little endearing, and so Dorrien continued, if only for the fact it was one of the few things now that brought a smile to her face nowadays…

It was the sound of something colliding hard with the doors of the Magician's Quarters that brought him back from his musings. The noise was loud even through the closed doors and Dorrien flinched unintentionally.

There was a badly stifled laugh following the impact, shortly silenced by a loud 'SSSSH!' though this noise too was broken up by laughter. Scuffled footsteps scraped against the stone floor a few times, and a frown marred Dorrien's face, wondering who could be making so much noise so early in the morning – he'd have thought half of the Guild wouldn't arise until the late morning due to the hangovers they were doomed to wake up with.

He found himself swinging his bare feet out of bed, grateful for the wooden floorboards that kept some of his body heat from escaping as the boy padded over to the door.

"Where is it?" a voice hissed loudly in the silence from the other side of the door, Dorrien's small frame pressed up against the wood.

Another voice murmured something low and inaudible to his ears, but the footsteps were headed towards where he was standing now; which meant they were probably coming up the stairs now.

There was another muted crash and an 'oof!' as something fell to the floor.

"Lorlen!"

The voice was reproachful, yet playful and a low chuckle rippled through the quiet. The boy wanted these people to stop being so inconsiderate and keep the volume down, but these people were most likely magicians; Lorlen, Dorrien knew, was Akkarin's best friend - and he had graduated yesterday. The chance of him and his companion listening to a sleep-deprived preteen, not even a novice yet, in these circumstances was marginal at best.

A loud slap resounded through the empty hall outside and the boy winced at the loudness and the high-pitched yelp that followed and Dorrien cursed his overactive imagination once again. What on _earth_ was going on out there?

The same low chuckle returned, though the tone was a little different; and Dorrien was left bewildered by the small shudder that racked his body as a result. There was shuffling before a terrific silence descended over the room once more.

Strange, wet sounding noises filtered through the gaps in the door and the shuffling noises resumed. Dorrien's heart was pounding in his chest for some reason, repulsed, intrigued and oddly excited by what he could hear. Something told him he should stop being so nosy and leave Lorlen and his companion in peace, when a strangled groan was heard.

There was a muffled noise of approval. A sudden hiss. Dorrien was ashamed to say his attention was glued to the events unfolded a few metres down the corridor, he felt like he was seriously over heating now, reber wool nightwear sticking to the door as embarrassment and something else making his face feel like it was burning.

He had a pretty good idea of what was going on, and somehow he just couldn't pull himself away.

A breathy gasp broke off in a sob.

"Akkarin…not here, _please_. Someone will see…"

As all the answers to his questions were thrown at him simultaneously, Dorrien felt a little dazed and utterly mortified, as though a door he had been trying to crack open had suddenly been swung off its hinges.

He wasn't stupid, he had a _very_ good idea now what was happening, and who it involved, though the information was taking a little while to sink in. So much so, he almost missed the sound of footsteps walking along the corridor and straight past the door to his father's quarters, causing him to instinctively take a few steps back, momentarily terrified that they had known he had listened in on them.

The footsteps continued, stopping as the door next door swung open with a quiet creak.

Dorrien's eyes bulged, breath freezing in his chest.

There was no mistaking it, then.

He remembered speaking to Akkarin yesterday about his plans abroad, whilst his House servants carried his packed luggage into that same room.

The Warrior had complained about how unfair it was that he couldn't just leave everything in the Novice's Quarters for one more night, but that apparently anyone not staying in the Guild after tomorrow had to clear their room out entirely. Dorrien had been there as Akkarin had locked that door, telling him that only he could open that door now.

The boy hadn't heard wrong. Akkarin was in the room next door. With…Lorlen.

His bed was pressed against the wall that divided the two rooms – if either one of next door's current occupants forgot to put up a sound barrier, Dorrien would be able to hear _everything_. And considering what he had just heard, the boy wasn't sure whether to be horrified or ecstatic at the prospect.

The door thudded shut as a weight was abruptly shoved against the wood, and once more Dorrien resented not having Control over his latent magical power yet. Deciding there was nothing for it but to pretend ignorance (that was the reason he told himself at least), the boy clambered back into bed and pulled the covers up to neck, shrinking down underneath the fabric as his mind helpfully bombarded him with thoughts and images of what could be going on only a few feet away. Dorrien's face expression twisted as he heard Lorlen's voice cry out, and realized that the two magicians had apparently forgotten to put up a sound barrier. He gave a quiet whimper as he placed the pillow gently over his face and pressed down over his ears – there was _no way_ he'd be able to sleep now.

* * *

**A/N: Ok chaps! That's a wrap for now - started on the epilogue, so HOPEFULLY this story may actually be finished by the end of the month...which'll be nice ^^. R&R please - reviews will pay for little Dorrie's headphones and for carrots for my plot bunny...**


	8. Epilogue

**A/N: Heya! Basically I had eveything I wanted to say planned out here, and then my compy through a spaz and deleted it all and I'm too jittery and nervous atm to write it all out again. So I shall just say that this is the end of MTM - the world's longest fricking prologue - that's write the real fun hasn't even started yet, so watch this space for the sequel 'Take to the Skies' coming to sometime soon hopefully...**

**I'm unbelievably terrified of this chapter because it is COMPLETLY un-betaed, hence I have had no feedback or OOC checks or anything. So please, even a 'yay' or 'boo' would suffice. Something please - it'll help lower my blood pressure atm :|**

**Thanks to everyone who was read/alerted/reviewed - I cannot thank you all enough. And huge cheers go out to everyone on the BMT forum, who inspired to write this fic and the corresponding sequel in the first place.**

**I feel slightly nauseous now so I'm just gonna let you read.**

**Warnings: um...ANGST. Introduction of another minor OC, general psychological breakdowns, um...possible OOC? Though I bloody well hope not. PLEASE inform me right away if it is.**

**See you chaps soon hopefully 8D**

* * *

White light streamed in through the open windows, illuminating the dust particles that lingered, drifting on the humid, musky air in the bedroom. Were it not for that small movement, he could have quite easily fooled himself into thinking time had stopped altogether.

Not that he'd have noticed. Not that he'd have cared.

His heartbeat had finally reverted back to something resembling a steady, normal pace, though he could feel that he was still breathing a little quicker than usual.

Lorlen gazed up at the bare ceiling looming over him, seeing nothing.

The Healer's long hair was tinted copper in the light, fine strands of mahogany fanned out across the never-before-used pillows, dark eyes wide and glassy, lips still bruised and a little swollen, parted wordlessly in…he wasn't sure what to call this feeling, and he didn't want to think of a word for it – letters and syllables would only cheapen and dilute this sensation that consumed his entire being.

His mind was still in a state of shock, numb, unable to truly accept or comprehend what had just happened. Even the logical side of Lorlen's brain it seemed had nothing to say, the entire universe suddenly put on mute and frozen in place.

The journey back from the spring was nothing more than a hazy blur, swept off its feet completely by the sudden renewed sense of vitality, freedom and a near unbearable lust that had consumed his thoughts as he'd crashed through the forest undergrowth, away from the spring and a thoroughly soaked Akkarin who was still cursing and spluttering from when Lorlen had pushed him into the water. The trees had parted, the Guild had appeared, he remembered Akkarin catching up with him, how he'd tripped up on the stairs in the Magician's Quarters, and then it was mainly lost in phases of darkness, torturous agonizing pleasure and a low dark voice chuckling over him, making his blood simmer and heart race as he lay sprawled across the freshly starched sheets on the bed…

An intense rush of emotion flooded over him as his eyes drifted to the head of sable hair resting on his chest, a lightly tanned arm thrown almost possessively across his bare torso.

Lorlen's heart leapt into his throat and the Healer was unable to choke it back down, his breath ripped away. The hand lodged in Akkarin's hair flinched a little, the Healer gently rolling the strands between the pads of his fingers. He was _so close_. It seemed a strange thing to think of considering their recent actions, but it was only now Lorlen consciously recognized what this proximity and level of intimacy symbolized. And the revelation brought an awed little smile to his blank expression, eyes twinkling a little. They had…they had _really_…

_…Heavens._

And Lorlen hadn't had to force or bribe Akkarin at all. He'd _wanted_ to be here, to spend his last night at the Guild sleeping here _with him_.

The Healer closed his eyes as the grin on his face spread to manic proportions, feeling a warm glow light up his insides and turn any remaining thoughts in his head to mush.

There was a sense of peace within him that Lorlen had never known was possible.

This was where he belonged; how it should stay.

The young magician tightened his grip on Akkarin's hair and around his bare shoulders, sheets having receded to the base of the other's spine. He allowed his gaze to drift over the smooth skin, ignored the small crescent shaped marks on the other's back, lightly tanned complexion whispering of long periods spent outside in sunlight during his youth, indicative of the many family trips to the seaside perhaps.

Lorlen shifted down a little bit, his eyes now level with Akkarin's sleeping face, emotionless yet peaceful and half hidden behind a curtain of long dark hair.

The Healer pulled the Warrior tighter against him, turning to the side so he could rest his cheek on Akkarin's hair. His friend had taken him to the seaside once when he had stayed at his family's house during the holidays. Lorlen could not swim at all – but nevertheless he had enjoyed himself so much he wished to see the ocean again, someday soon he hoped; perhaps Akkarin could take him there once more…

What about today? Everyone would have left by the early afternoon and they could have the rest of the day free.

But his friend would be gone by the end of the day…

The young man's face hardened. No, not today. Akkarin didn't _have_ to go right now; he could stay little longer…if he really wanted to.

_And you think that what happened here would be enough to keep him in Kyralia?_

Lorlen felt his face burn and buried it in his friend's hair. When put that way, his argument suddenly seemed so feeble and pathetic.

_It _has _to be enough. He _has_ to stay, just a little longer – he can't leave me here like this…_

His eyes stung and the Healer felt his cheek become a little damp.

"Please." Lorlen whispered. "_Please_ – just one more day…"

* * *

Akkarin waited until he was satisfied the other was asleep before he finally opened his eyes, eyelids drooping fractionally at the warm and oddly soothing sensation of the other's even breaths against his hair and scalp; the Warrior's dark gaze otherwise unnervingly clear and sharp for someone who had, supposedly, just woken up.

A distant part of him wished that had been the case, that he was still dreaming or had at the very least, had awoken to a hangover so horrific (and worthy of last night's alcohol consumption) that he could realistically have overlooked the extreme closeness of Lorlen's presence, the waves of contentment and anxiety that emanated from the Healer even in his sleep and the memories both of the aforementioned triggered in Akkarin's mind – but the thought was fleeting and disappeared almost instantly without trace.

Perhaps his mind had built up some kind of immunity to hysterical babblings of denial (not that denial in this case was all that effective, his current predicament pretty much spoke for itself) or had simply gotten fed up of processing the same message over and over again and simply unplugged itself, not willing to indulge to administer such large doses of sympathy and self-pity; especially at this time in the morning.

A thick numbing sense of recognition and utter resignation now resided in Akkarin's mind, eyes blankly staring at the hollow of Lorlen's collarbone in the way a condemned man would regard an empty prison cell. His body felt hot in a suffocating, restricting kind of way, the foreign arm draped over his exposed shoulders causing the skin beneath to prickle in a way that made him squirm but yet was not entirely unpleasant.

All that aside, he felt relatively…calm – though the apathy was beginning to annoy him. It should hurt to even _think_ – heavens knew he'd drunk enough.

In a way, Akkarin _wanted_ it to hurt, wanted his ears to ring and his head to pound.

It shouldn't be possible, for him to feel so…so…_little_.

It wasn't like he'd ever done _this_ before; not even with Laria, though she had tried to seduce him into it once, and would have succeeded in getting it had her spell over him not fractured at the last possible moment, for reasons he still couldn't decipher.

Not that it mattered anymore; though it was only now he realized that he'd made the right decision that day in saying 'no'.

Akkarin had wanted it to be something that he had chosen himself and not been pressurized into doing so, consciously or not – and so in a way, he'd gotten his wish in the end; but…well…just not how he'd planned it _at all_.

A small part of him had almost dared to hope that perhaps Lorlen would fill the gap of the blissfully oblivious 'dead-with-a-hangover' participant in this morning's events, or that perhaps, he'd just roll over quietly and…_forget_.

However, if the Healer's whispered request was any indication, it seemed his friend was probably feeling enough for the both of them.

And whilst the possible repercussions of Lorlen's sudden adoration for him did frighten and horrify Akkarin to an extent, he couldn't deny that the fact he had single-handedly made his friend so happy made him feel a little pleased with himself; and also helped him justify that he wasn't being entirely selfish, which helped to reduce the inexplicable feeling of guilt that churned sluggishly in his stomach.

The familiar 'herby' smell of Lorlen clung to him like a second blanket and brought a small fragile smile to the older magician's face, filling him with a glow similar to that of the sky in late autumn mornings – overly bright, and yet cold almost to the point of being harsh, small morsels of heat seemingly added as an afterthought.

The Warrior's lips twitched and the smile crumbled.

Suddenly, he felt a soul-deep chill and it seemed that even Lorlen's warmth now was not great enough to heat him up, and he felt himself scoot closer on impulse.

Recognition crashed down around him like a tonne of bricks; a high-pitched and keening wail of alarm ringing in his head.

What the _hell_ did he think he was doing?

Akkarin flinched, eyes wide as his mind jolted from its temporary nap and scrambled to produce an answer, but was left unable to string a sentence of coherent words together in response.

The temperature seemed to drop even further, small icy needles jabbing at his skin like sharpened claws at the end of thin accusatory fingers. Goosebumps rose to the surface.

Apathy and guilt had given way to fear, a paralyzing horror at the sudden prospect that perhaps he was not quite as far over what had happened as he had previously thought.

That, just maybe, it was not simply the fling he had assumed it to be - and that perhaps he wouldn't have even _thought_ about going this far with anyone _other_ than Lorlen, not even with Laria had she offered once again…

And just lying there with him now – his mind was so clear compared to how it normally was. He felt calm and _safe_, as though somehow he knew that as long as he stayed where he was, everything would be OK.

Akkarin searched for an explanation but was met by a hollow, shell-shocked silence. Dark eyes sought out Lorlen's face, sheets rustling as he shifted into the direct line of what would have been the other's gaze.

He had no idea what he was meant to be looking for, simply scanning over the features as one would a priceless work of art, committing all the previously insignificant details to memory: the soft creases on his closed eyelids, straight angular nose dotted with the last of his adolescent freckles, the small downturn of those gorgeous lips along with texture of his hair between his fingers and the incredible smoothness of his friend's cheeks beneath his cupped hands.

The Warrior was left speechless and breathless as a knot twisted in his stomach, heart flip-flopping in his chest.

What…was this feeling?

Could it be that what he now felt for Lorlen was stronger than a mere attraction, deeper than obsession?

What if this was…?

No.

NO.

NO NO NO NO NO.

Suddenly the spell was shattered; Akkarin tore his hands away from Lorlen's face as though scorched by the contact, the arm curled across his waist now perceived as restraining rather than comforting as every instinct in Akkarin's body clamored at him to get up and run away.

He jerked upright, Lorlen's hand now rested on his sheet covered hip; the thin fabric all that was preventing the true intensity of Akkarin's sudden anguish bringing the Healer back to consciousness.

The Warrior swung his legs out of the bed, stood up and backed away, all too aware now of the sun's steely glare of disapproval and outrage searing into the unblemished skin of his back.

Long fingers tangled in his hair, gripped it in clenched fists as his knuckles turned milky white, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as the bed remained in its place, looking meek and deceptively innocent whilst Lorlen's pale and slender form seemed to call out to him like a siren's song, long dark hair fanned out across the wrinkled bed sheets as the Healer shifted onto his back.

One hand bunched his own hair tighter whilst the other flew to his mouth, appalled at how tempted he was to simply crawl back into bed and let the events unfold.

After all, Akkarin had gotten precious little sleep, his feet shrieked at the coldness of the wooden floor in comparison to the warmth of the bed and Lorlen's embrace was comforting if nothing else. It could help him forget it all if he wanted it to…

_"Please. _Please_ – just one more day…"_

Why not stay longer? The trip to Calia could be postponed if he so wished, the ship didn't leave for Elyne for another three days anyway; and it would be nice to have a day to relax after the pressure and the headache inducing noise of last night's party.

What's more – no-one would distract him because everyone would have assumed that he did leave today…

Akkarin took a wary step towards the bed.

And that was the point when someone knocked on the front door.

His muscles locked, repetitive taps forming their own song, crude and unpleasant to the ears, nowhere near as beautiful as the scene before him.

He could have this, it suddenly occurred to him; Lorlen, the peace and relaxation, the clearness of his head and thoughts. The Warrior could see himself giving in, drifting off to sleep in the arms of someone who cared about him for reasons not related to duty or status…

The day would be wonderful, the happiest of his life because there would be no lessons, no homework, no annoying Warrior fan-clubs or chess playing Alchemists to intrude.

It was all only a step away.

_But…_

If he stayed now, if he let himself surrender…would he truly be able to let go tomorrow morning, or the day after, or the morning of the next day?

Or the next day?

…or the next day?

Akkarin stared at Lorlen's face long and hard, as he had barely a couple of minutes beforehand, no expression on his face.

He turned without so much as a goodbye and headed out into the greeting/dining and general junk dumping room, completely naked and feeling vulnerable in a way that had his chest physically ache. The chill returned, curling around his ankles and sliding up the backs of his legs and he carried himself through the doorway to look for some clothes for which to greet his House's servants in.

He gathered up Lorlen's discarded items and hurriedly and pushed them through the doorway of the bedroom, before closing and locking the door behind him; there was no need for any of the servants to go there as all his possessions were lined up against the far wall of the main room in suitcases.

But still, Akkarin was not sure his mind could not deal with 'what if's' right now, the rising paranoia was already making him nauseous.

Buttoning up his black waistcoat, he walked over to a mirror propped up on a wooden chest of drawers in the corner of the room, mildly disgusted by what he saw staring back at him. He looked exactly the same. As though nothing had ever happened.

Not that he had much of a choice anyway. Realistically.

The knocking on the door continued and Akkarin caught himself just in time to stop himself yelling at the servants to go away, terrified that the noise would wake up Lorlen.

A sleepy, naked and bewildered looking Lorlen opening the bedroom door to a battalion of House Delvon's servants could cause something of a ruckus.

Or maybe that was an opinion shared only by Akkarin.

Turning back to the bedroom, he pushed forwards with his mind, casting a shield across the walls to block out any external sounds, only to discover to his surprise and intense relief that such a shield still existed across the far wall, next to the headboard – where this set of rooms joined to the next. Lorlen must have remembered at the last moment because the thought had slipped his mind completely.

_Thank heavens for small mercies in life._

If Akkarin's memory was correct, his Alchemy teacher, Lord Rothen lived in the rooms next door with his wife and son, Dorrien, whom the Warrior now briefly recalled talking with yesterday. Not to say that his former teacher was conservative in any way, Dannyl 'the supposed lad' was his novice after all – but it wouldn't do for the Alchemist to know the somewhat ugly details of Akkarin's personal life.

Rothen's opinion would never be one considered important enough to for convince the young Warrior to actively alter his lifestyle to suit the others desires or advice, but perhaps Lorlen would not feel the same way. Sometimes, it was best to use discretion.

Satisified the shield would hold long enough for both himself and the servants to vacate the premises, Akkarin turned back to the door, the hinges twisting soundlessly as it opened in response to the magician's vague gesture.

A young man with short, fiery red hair, dressed in a simple yet smart black and white uniform stepped onto the premises and bowed formally, the incal of House Delvon clearly visible on the front of his shirt.

"Good morning, Ressan." Akkarin replied in a polite, business-like tone he hoped hid any stray strands of contempt in his voice, a feeling of dread coiling tight in his stomach at this particular person's appearance.

"Good morning, Lord Akkarin. Lady Velan sent us here from your mansion to help you carry your luggage down to the carriage outside." The servant's tone was quiet, low and smooth in his ears, making Akkarin almost want to automatically agree with anything this newcomer proposed. Almost.

The Warrior smiled thinly back and nodded his approval, whilst the servant turned and ordered a small group of similarly dressed servants in the hallway outside, a frosty arrogant edge to his voice.

Ressan had been working for Akkarin's family about ten years. He was the only child of Lady Velan's former personal maid, a woman belonging to a House of relatively low status compared to their own.

When the maid had passed away a decade ago, the child was left with nowhere to go and was taken in by his mother's mistress and put to work. It had taken him only a couple of years to work his way up the social standings in the Velan household (there were upwards of fifty servants in the mansion alone), but his ruthless, back-stabbing techniques to get there had earned him more than enough enemies.

At the age of 24, he was now Lady Velan's most trusted servant, reporting back every detail and scrap of gossip he happened by to his mistress like a faithful dog bringing sticks back to its master. She thanked him for the information and the dog wagged its tail happily, pleased to have the attention and to be of use to the one who gave him a reason to live again.

That the young man had turned up here was an undisputable sign that Lady Velan (or _'Mother Dearest'_ as Akkarin referred to her in its customary sneering tone) was keeping an eye on her son; obviously deciding that he needed supervision to make sure he 'appropriately fulfilled his duties as Heir of a Noble and Distinguished Household' – those words had been rammed down Akkarin's throat so often even thinking of them gave him a headache.

To put it simply, his mother had sent the guard dog to his rooms to make sure he actually left the country when he said he would.

Akkarin had never liked his mother very much, and was pretty sure she felt the same way; but nevertheless they tolerated each other – he because she was his mother and Lady Velan because she wanted the security of knowing her position would remain one of power and influence when her only child became Head of House Delvon when her husband would pass away.

And if she had to keep her mouth shut every now and again, and overlook certain aspects of her son's life to guarantee she remained in favour with him – then so be it.

Akkarin watched over the proceedings silently, reluctantly having to admit that despite Ressan's foul personality, he was exceedingly efficient at his job; the room was emptied of suitcases in no more than a couple of minutes. He ordered his 'workforce' to check the adjoining rooms, make sure there was nothing they had missed or overlooked.

Ressan started towards a closed door or the far side of the room, his skin beginning to tingle as he neared it the way it always did in the presence of magic.

He visibly swelled at the prospect of finding something of importance to tell his mistress.

The servant glanced behind him to make sure no-one else was looking, before taking a step forward – directly into the crossed arms over Akkarin's chest. The older man started, sucking in a quick breath as he took a step back and looked at the other's face.

"Is there something I can help you with, Ressan?"

Akkarin's expression was one of quiet interest; at least that was how the magician hoped it looked.

The servant's expression, at first one of surprise, twisted into a smile-like grimace.

If Lady Velan disliked her son, it could be said that her servant truly _hated_ him – and had done ever since their first meeting when Akkarin been a smarmy, egotistical little brat of ten-year-old. Being ordered around by a child younger than himself was something that had made the redhead's skin crawl, and even now the boy that gotten a bit taller and a bit more attractive, to Ressan he'd always be the infuriating child strutting around the mansion like he owned it already. Him and that quiet friend of his. Well…the friend wasn't so bad.

"No, but I thank you Lord Akkarin," the title felt awkward and unpleasant on his tongue, like something slimy that needed to be spat out immediately, "I just need to check the room behind you for luggage, if you would not mind?" He knew he was skirting on the fringes of being disrespectful, but this one of the many times he found himself not caring all that much – he didn't serve Akkarin, he served Lady Velan, and not only did she not care much for her child, but she also feared him to an extent – and that was something that made his blood freeze.

The Warrior smiled once more, the slightly thinning of his lips almost impossible to spot.

"I appreciate your thoroughness, but there is no need because that is the room I slept in last night, and I can tell you there are no bags in there." _The only thing in that room is a bit too big to fit in a suitcase._

Ressan stared at Akkarin for a moment as something imperceptible flashed across his gaze, but then the smile-grimace reappeared, only more strained this time. The servant bowed.

"As you wish my Lord. Is there anything else you require of me?"

The magician was about to dismiss him when a sudden thought sprung to mind.

"As a matter of fact, there is one thing I would ask of you to do, if you have the time."

Interest ignited in the servant's eyes.

"Certainly, my Lord."

"I would like you to find University Director Jerrik and ask him whether this room will be occupied once I leave today. If it is, you are dismissed – but it isn't, please enquire as to the possibility of this room being passed on the Healer Lord Lorlen, Family Tagin, House Sarron in my absence. If he agrees to this, please arrange for Lord Lorlen's bags to be carried directly to this room – they are currently back at his former room in the Novices' Quarters, which is on the ground floor, third door on the left hand side from the main entrance."

Rassan's eyes which grown distant as Akkarin spoke his request, became clear once more and he nodded seriously, determination etched onto his face, as he took his leave and left through the door he arrived in; and the Warrior felt confident in the other's abilities that the request would be carried out to the letter if Jerrik agreed.

The Warrior allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief for having narrowly averted disaster. Hopefully, the task he had set would be enough to take Ressan's mind off of the bedroom door incident; and get his friend a place to stay in the Guild, something he knew the other had been denied due to room shortages.

As the last of the servants left the room, Akkarin closed the door leading out into the Magician's Quarters and began to search through the chest of drawers for some parchment and a pen. Finding both, he placed them down on the work surface and pulled a chair over.

He sat down, the gravity of the situation settling over him once more like a brooding stormcloud.

_How did it come to this? _

_…No. What had happened between Lorlen and himself would have happened eventually, one way or another; it had only ever been a question of 'when'. _

_And 'why'._

Akkarin closed his eyes and felt himself shiver as he felt himself slide down into the chair, the back of head scraping gently against the padding of the headrest.

Why did this happen? Why now? Why did he feel this way?

_…why _him?

The answer did not come in a dramatic burst of inspiration or in a sudden moment of clarity as most big discoveries did.

This time, it came to him as naturally as breathing did.

He knew why, he had _always_ known why – but had dismissed it in search of what he viewed as a better, more logical solution.

Why did he let himself be kissed and return the favor later on?

Why, even now, did a part of him want to postpone his life-long dream of travelling in favor of going back to bed and being held?

Why, as a consequence, was he so willing to jeopardise having a wealthy beautiful fiancée, a very affluent family and an inheritance worth more than most earned in a lifetime to do so?

_Because it was Lorlen_ – and those four words could be used to justify everything.

Akkarin couldn't lie – he didn't see his feelings for Lorlen coming, he had assumed that growing fondness he felt for the younger magician towards the end was simply an indication that they would remain best friends for a long time after graduation; and so Akkarin had encouraged it.

Lorlen was not a girl - perhaps if he had been, the Warrior would have stopped and considered the possibility of this some time ago.

Akkarin didn't think this would happen. He did not imagine that as the curtains closed on this time of his life; it would be _Lorlen_ who would steal the show.

It made _sense_ somehow, the two of them being together romantically - it felt right, _good_ – not '_politically correct'_ or '_suitable_' as it did with Laria.

Being with Lorlen made him happy - but staying today would be admitting that he wanted to pursue…whatever this was; and acknowledge that it could realistically work as more than a one night stand, possibly the start of a full-blown relationship.

And that _scared_ him. _So much_.

Akkarin's head fell forwards into his hands, fingers splayed across his face. He took a deep breath, a bitter sounding chuckle flung from his lips.

How on _Earth_ was he meant to write all that down?

His mind provided him with an answer.

_You don't._

Someone had told him once that love was like a bad habit, an addiction that corrupts your mind and makes you do and think stupid, irrational things for no other reason than – Akkarin grimaced – '_because_'.

And the only way to deal with a bad habit was to cut it out and brace yourself for the aftershock.

He had to get as far away from Lorlen, the Guild, as he could and sever all possible connections to them both for the time being at least - no letters, no meeting up; _nothing_.

Akkarin tried to imagine it. He couldn't.

The Warrior scowled – that was _completely_ the wrong attitude.

If he needed to do this, he might as well do it properly – and there was no time like the present to start.

Akkarin sat up in the seat and picked up the pen, nib paused over the parchment as he hesitated, and then began to write.

* * *

The bells had just started chiming when he appeared at the top of the University stairs, the last of the suitcases being hauled into a carriage, the servants grunting as they lifted a particularly heavy bag up. Akkarin channeled a portion of his magic to the luggage, the uniformed people watching in awe and astonishment as it was lifted effortless from their hands and moved onto the carriage roof, where it was promptly tied down with rope.

They turned around and bowed to the Warrior as he descended the stairs, thanking him profusely; Akkarin dismissed them all with a smile and a small nod of head.

In front of the case-loaded carriage was another, bigger and more impressive - gold gilding around the vehicle edges, the incal of House Delvon etched onto the side of the door, black oil-based paint glinting in the late morning sunshine; and Akkarin had to smile. His mother really had pulled out all the stops today. Anyone who didn't know her would think she was boasting because she wanted to emphasize her son's success in graduating from the Guild and wished to show everyone how proud she was of him.

The thought made him want to scoff, though it also made him a little sad that it was not the case.

A small group of people had gathered in the shadow of the empty carriage and Akkarin was surprised by the wave of gratitude that swept over him as a result.

Ressan had not yet returned and the Warrior felt relieved, satisfied that he could leave the room transfer business to him – another loose end tied up, another small weight off his mind.

Akkarin almost missed a step entirely as he lost his footing in shock; his father had turned up to sent him off _personally_, and the young magician felt his eyes sting in happiness.

Lord Velan was speaking with another man he faintly recognised, though a number of his own friends had turned up to see him as well - Yikmo, Terrell and a few others of yesterday's graduates were present.

So were Gerrell and Fergun, their parents were among the small crowd; though Akkarin guessed they were waiting to talk to his father. He hoped so at least.

But there on the far side of the road was another carriage, the moss green of their incal painted on their own carriage on the other side of the path. It was the incal of House Herrel, and that meant –

"Akkarin!"

He looked up at the bright cheerful voice, tears unknowingly making his eyes twinkle like stars in the morning sunlight.

Laria beamed up at him from her seat in her family's carriage, got out immediately and pushed her closed parasol into the arms of a servant guarding the carriage door.

She was wearing a cream colored dress the Warrior could not recall seeing before (though in all honesty he had never really been paid much attention).

The Novice picked up her skirts and ran towards him with surprising speed given the heels on the shoes she was wearing – matching color to the dress and parasol of course.

Normally, he'd have quietly sneered about how she'd obviously wasted hours choosing that particular set so it matched perfectly, but now he welcomed the familiarity of it.

The little girl dressed up in a woman's body – this was the Laria he knew and it was how he wanted to remember her.

She met him as he had just stepped down from the last step at the bottom of the University and flung her arms around him as though she had not seen him in months, not barely twelve hours ago as was the case.

Yet Akkarin did not perceive this behavior as clingy or annoying at all – just the thought that someone was so happy just to see him, and would get up in the morning after a party the night before and travel down to the Guild just to say goodbye another time…the Warrior wrapped his arms around her tightly and hid his face in her shoulder as he began to cry.

Akkarin felt someone staring at him but took no notice; it felt good to be held in someone's arms once again – good but awful at the same time; this was not Lorlen's embrace, the body pressed flush against his own did not feel like his either as Akkarin ran his hands down her sides, over her waist and stopped to encircle her hips. Laria shuffled closer and nuzzled into the side of his neck.

Akkarin felt sick with guilt, as though somehow betraying Lorlen, or was it Laria he was betraying? But he needed the contact, someone to hold and assure him it would all be OK – something to erase Lorlen's touches on his body.

Plaster it all over with the woman in his arms like a thick layer of paint over textured wallpaper.

His mind was utterly confused, not understanding what the hell it was he was doing, or meant to. Nothing made sense, the path laid out before him was blurry and ever-shifting and completely out of control and he _hated_ it.

The glare from before intensified and he tightened his arms around her, perhaps nipping a little too sharply at her neck, trying to somehow crush their bodies together into one, and she gasped hotly in his ear.

"Akkarin…"

He bit back a quiet moan, feeling heat pool in his groin and wanted to bawl even harder.

Oh Heavens, what the _hell_ was wrong with him? _This wasn't supposed to happen._

All these thoughts, all this _noise_ inside his head! _Why_ was it still there; it had gone away before, back there in that bed, in that room – everything had been silenced.

Why was it not working anymore?

That glare continued to bore holes into his back and his grip tightened once again, desperation and anguish making his eyes flash.

_Oh, please Lorlen, please make it all go away…_

"Lorlen…" The name whistled through his clenched teeth, his concentration so absolute he missed the way his fiancée tensed in his arms.

"Akkarin…" she pleaded softly, "…_you're hurting me_…"

Her voice shocked him out of his thoughts and his grip released instantly, not realizing that he had dug his nails into her back during their embrace and she hissed as he pulled them back from the thin material of the dress, leaving him horrified with himself.

Akkarin pulled back and looked at her neck, flinching at the livid red bite marks marring her otherwise flawless skin.

He regarded her face, features and outline blurred by the way his vision wobbled. Akkarin stroked her cheek with his thumb, softly, so softly…

"I'm sorry," he half whispered, half sobbed at her "if I'd known, I'd have stopped before…"

She smiled, though he was not able to see its sad undertone.

"It's alright. I'm just…glad I could help."

Help. Yes, that was exactly what he had needed; something to help him deal with the situation at hand. Akkarin didn't need a relationship, or a one-night stand, or anything, because as long as he had help – it would all be OK.

The Warrior looked at her as though seeing her in an entirely new light.

Laria, the girl with the bright green eyes and the long golden hair; a princess straight from the fairytales of old. So happy and thoughtful and beautiful.

"Akkarin, I – "

"I think I love you." And the worst part was, for a short space of time – he'd truly believed it.

Of course.

That was the reason why none of it made sense in his head.

He didn't feel at peace because his mind was so caught up in everything he felt for her.

The reason she didn't feel right in his arms was because he just hadn't gotten used to it yet. That dreadful, crushing sensation in his stomach was a sign of how strongly he felt for her, not disgust or guilt or horror at all.

_…Right?_

That was what he had thought for that one moment.

And then that moment passed.

Laria froze completely, eyes wide, lips parted in shock. Something flashed across her gaze, lingered but then disappeared before he was able to identify it; and tears welled up in her eyes as she sobbed once, hiding her mouth behind white-gloved hands.

"Oh Akkarin, I love you too!"

She threw her arms around him once again, though this time it was he who did the holding whilst she cried.

"I love you Akkarin." She mumbled into his shoulder. "I love you so much."

The Warrior held her loosely this time, an expression on his face that clearly said: '…I didn't just say what I think I did…did I?'

His eyes closed as all the heat was abruptly drained from his body.

_Oh…CRAP._

Akkarin's lips fell numbly on the crown of her head, squishing the skin there against the soft in a clinical, mechanical parody of a kiss.

Well, his mind had fallen silent once again – but this silence was absolute, enormous and impossibly loud all that the same time; a huge all-encompassing shriek deemed so painful to hear the brain it put the sound on mute and watched as the echoes it created soundlessly obliterated all trace of thought, leaving it white-washed and sterile as a freshly bandaged battle wound; though the force behind the glare directed at him was so fierce it made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

Laria sniffled as she pulled back and held her lover's shell-shocked face in her hands, his expression hidden behind the unshed film of tears in her eyes.

"When you get back, we'll get married straight away. We could have a winter wedding, outside in the snow by a lake. It'll be frozen over, and strengthened with magic beforehand so the reception can be held on it afterwards."

Her face dropped to Akkarin's shoulder as she continued,

"And the bridesmaids will wear white silk dresses and have mint-colored petticoats and white gloves like mine; only all the way up to the forearm – you know the color green I mean by mint, my love?"

She felt him wordlessly bob his head in confirmation.

"We'll have jesters and entertainers from Elyne and they'll play instruments for us all to dance to – like in one of those masquerade balls, and we'll have harochi juice imported from Sachaka and – "

But Akkarin was no longer listened as she rambled on. Nor was he thinking. Instead he simply stared ahead, eyes mildly surprised and glassy – similar to that of a man dealt a sudden sharp blow to the head.

"There there, my dear; let us not scare Lord Akkarin off with all your ostentatious ideas for the wedding! Still at least a year before the big day, in your case – your mother and I have told you before: there will be no ceremony until you have graduated from the Magician's Guild."

Laria pulled away from her fiancée and pouted Lord Velan's companion.

"A year is barely enough time if all is to be arranged before then; and you need not worry about scaring Akkarin away because he loves me."

The Warrior's slight flinch was all the response he made.

"Indeed, how could any man not love you, my sweet. Now run along back to the carriage if you would, we should not hold up Lord Akkarin any longer." Lord Tevlan remarked; the dismissive, patronizing tone in the elder man's voice brought his daughter's fiancée partially out of his catatonic state.

Akkarin's mouth dipped in a disapproving frown.

He knew that some Houses were old-fashioned, but that he could talk to his daughter like that when she had enough power in her little finger to crush him flat, seemed grossly unjust to him.

Nevertheless, Laria frowned at her lover as she embraced him for the last time.

"Promise me you'll return in one year."

The Warrior looked down at her, still a little dazed, but conscious enough to note the uncharacteristic seriousness on her face. The words left his mouth before he even realized what he was saying.

"I promise."

Apparently satisfied, she kissed him briefly and returned to the cart waiting on the other side of the path. Lord Tevlan wished Akkarin good luck, said farewell to Lord Velan and excused himself.

The Warrior looked around at the small gathering before him and locked eyes with one person in particular and realized at once who had been looking at him the entire time he had been with Laria. The magician in question stepped forwards. Akkarin greeted him formally, sensing that the sour feelings caused from the party had not yet dissipated.

"Good morning Terrell."

The usually cheery faced Alchemist simply nodded stiffly and Akkarin sighed, sad that this friendship in particular would not mended before his departure.

"Have you seen Lorlen? I'd have thought he would have almost certainly been here to say goodbye…"

The Warrior felt something inside him churn unpleasantly.

There were times when even nice, pretty sounding formal language was unable to mask the true intent or remark behind a question; and this was a prime example.

Terrell hadn't come here to say goodbye to him, he wanted to see Lorlen – find out if Akkarin had been a good enough friend, a _worthy_ friend, and had gone after him last night after their little conversation; and if he hadn't, and Lorlen was still upset – there would be consequences: none of them good.

It was times like this Akkarin wanted to tell Terrell to back off and leave them both alone; he appreciated that the Alchemist was only looking out for his friend, but in the end, it was none of Terrell's business what happened between Lorlen and himself and what they fell out over. If the Alchemist knew the Healer so well, he should know that Lorlen was perfectly capable of fighting his own battles.

Terrell's closeness and fondness for his friend was more than a little disconcerting, and the thought that they would almost certainly grow closer during his absence made Akkarin surprisingly angry.

"No, I'm afraid I haven't, perhaps he simply overslept," the irony of that statement made the Warrior want to laugh out loud "however, we have already planned to meet up several times whilst I am away – so there will be plenty of time for us to say goodbye later on." That was a lie, Akkarin thought, but it was worth seeing the other's expression crumple a little.

"I'm glad to hear it." Terrell replied in a dry tone and went back to join Yikmo, who had been watching the encounter between the two of them out of the corner of his eye. The Alchemist whispered something to his friend, but the Vin Warrior appeared to shake it off with a look that clearly said: 'You're worrying too much.'

Other than that, the farewells went smoothly; as smoothly as was possible now that Lorlen's absence was firmly in his mind.

However, this pain was soothed a little as the Warrior found himself greeting his father for the first time in what felt like years.

There were no hugs or comforting touches between them, but Lord Velan did shake his hand in congratulations for Graduating and even told him:

"I'm proud of you, son."

And for a horrible moment, Akkarin thought he would start crying all over again.

They talked for a little while about things in general, until his father announced that it was time they left for Calia, where his mother and the rest of the immediate family would be there waiting for him.

_Brilliant_, the Warrior had thought in a tone that suggested otherwise, but his father's presence had truly done wonders for his general mood.

Ressan had also returned and nodded subtly at him when their eyes met, indicating that his mission had been a success – something that made Akkarin's heart feel sufficiently lighter.

A couple of people started crying as the last goodbyes were said, heartfelt hugs, words and promises to write and visit were exchanged (that was the only part Akkarin felt uneasy about). Yikmo gave him a brief hug and clapped his hand down on his shoulder in a good luck gesture, leaving Terrell last in the line.

Akkarin's eyes became steely as the two of them looked directly at each other.

No words, hugs or heartfelt promises were said, merely a handshake – but that was more than enough.

'Cutting out cravings' or not, Lorlen was still Akkarin's best friend; and he would personally see to it that _anyone_ who hurt the Healer would suffer.

_Stay away from him. He's mine. _

The second part was left unsaid, but they both understood.

Terrell did not reply.

The Warrior's gaze lingered a while longer, before turning away to step into the carriage.

The vehicle jolted as Akkarin's father settled into the seat opposite his son and knocked on the roof to signal that they were both ready.

It pulled away slowly and a few people began yelling goodbyes and 'see you soon's' at the retreating vehicle. The Warrior felt the sudden, desperate urge to look back at the Magician's Quarters – to see if perhaps Lorlen had woken up and rushed out to see him.

Would that have been a good thing or a bad thing?

He wasn't sure.

But the thought of a disheveled Lorlen, pale with horror and eyes unnaturally bright with purple bruises underneath, yelling his name as he tried to run after the carriage, was so _terrifying_ he almost told the driver to go faster.

Akkarin watched through the window as the vehicle passed through the gates at the Guild Entrance and let out a sigh he didn't realize he'd been holding, bowing his head in relief, guilt. And shame.

Lord Velan regarded his son carefully.

"Are you scared about your trip?"

The young Warrior looked up and smiled ruefully.

"I believe I am."

"Good; it proves you have truly thought about what could happen to you out there, considered that you will be entirely on your own, forced to make your own decisions and made to accept the consequences."

A wave of empathy ironed out the usually deep-set lines of his father's face. "However, when you sit down and think rationally about something – your judgement is good and consistent with your goals. As long as you do not do anything _unusually_ stupid, you have little to worry about."

Akkarin smirked shakily, understanding that his father was trying to reassure him in his own way. However, it didn't seem to have worked as well as Lord Velan had probably meant it to.

Keep to your goals.

Your ultimate goals.

He'd talked about that to Lorlen during a chess match they'd had some time ago. He had told the younger magician that his ultimate goal was to travel and meet new people.

Was that still it?

After the sense of calm he'd had this morning, Akkarin wasn't so sure anymore.

But he couldn't, would never have or _allow himself_ to have Lorlen ever again.

Not in that way. That path was firmly shut now; so travelling would just have to do.

Besides, his life wasn't so bad at the moment – he was being given a rare chance to possibly start afresh, all those different people and cultures just waiting for him out there; where he belonged.

The last tendrils of doubt faded as he wiped the niggling urge to look back at the Guild from his mind completely, nodding his agreement to his father's encouragement.

This was the part in their life where he and Lorlen were _meant_ to separate.

He would not look back; leaving the Guild now was to offer his friend the same chance to start all over again – and Lorlen would be a fool not to take it.

Akkarin was doing his friend a favor.

He owed him nothing.

* * *

The group outside the University Entrance began to dissipate almost as soon as Akkarin's carriage had left, each person either staying to talk to their friends, go back to their own carriages or return to their rooms to pack.

The Warrior had barely left the front gates and it was already as though he had never been there. The sun would still rise and set without him, cries of jubilation and tears of sorrow for those departing and never to return would still be shed.

The world and nearly everyone in it would carry on as normal.

But not quite everyone.

Through a first floor window of the Magician's Quarters in the Magician's Guild of Kyralia, the young man with long dark hair and the kind features slept on through the departure of Lord Akkarin of House Delvon; exhausted mentally and physically from the long night he endured previously.

Usually, he was a light sleeper and had been ever since he had moved to Imardin from his original home in the countryside just under five years ago.

As such, the sudden drop in the temperature, due to the lack of body heat on his now otherwise empty bed made him twitch. It made him frown.

The bells began to chime as Lorlen opened his eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Annnnnnnnnd...that's a wrap. Feedback would be greatly appreciated...yeah X_X**


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